You've Got to Hide Your Love Away
by JennyLD
Summary: Rose is back, has been for awhile now, and the Doctor is none the wiser...full summary inside.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** Doctor Who owns my soul, I own nothing.**  
Spoilers: **Through season three  
**Summary: **Rose is back, has been for awhile now, and the Doctor is none the wiser. She's making a go of it and life is good...as good as it can be without him by her side. But what happens when forces beyond her control bring the two of them back together? What happens when the Doctor finds out she's been hiding from him all these months? Will Rose reveal her deepest, darkest secrets to him before it's too late? **  
Thanks To: **The_magpye for her thoughts on this chapter and Snowfox3 for the beta

* * *

Four months have passed since Rose Tyler found herself back in the one place she longed to be more then anywhere else. Sixteen weeks since she won the fight to return to her proper universe…the Doctor's universe. The happy reunion has been scratched however and instead she finds herself a member of the Torchwood team. Fighting the good fight against forces that would threaten this world isn't the same though; not when you're grounded to Earth instead of traveling amongst the stars with the man you love.

OOO

He can feel a headache coming on, right there at the very edge of his temples. Too much paperwork always seems to bring on this sort of reaction from his body, which is why he keeps an emergency bottle of Aspirin in his desk.

Pouring some water from the carafe Ianto considerately left for him, he's about to go digging for the pain pills when there's a sharp knock on the door. "Enter," he calls out, closing the desk drawer with a sigh. It'll have to wait for now.

"Jack," Toshiko addresses him, pausing hesitantly in the entryway.

"Tosh." He nods in acknowledgment. Normally he'd wave her in, offer her a seat and maybe something to drink, but right now he just wants to get this conversation over with as quick as possible. "What can I do for you today?" The pounding in his head is getting worse and he still has the huge stack of forms that need to be filled out staring him in the face.

"I ah…I think there's something you ought to see."

"All right." He gives her a nod and though he's reluctant to leave the quiet of his office he rises from his seat without hesitation. Knowing Tosh, it must be something important if she's interrupting him when she knows he's busy. "Lead on."

He follows her to the center of the hub where her desk is located, a prime spot for the resident computer expert. Glancing at the numerous screens reveals nothing out of the ordinary. Rift activity at least seems minimal he notes with some impatience. She's clearly upset about something but without the threat of impending doom or alien invasion he's not really sure what.

"I should've noticed this earlier," she finally speaks, her voice so quiet he has to strain to hear. "But I…" She shakes her head, obviously in great turmoil over whatever it is that the great and infallible Tosh didn't catch the first time around.

"Hey," he starts, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. If that's all she's so worked up about — that something, somehow managed to slip past her — she's got nothing to worry about. "We all make mistakes sometimes. I'm sure whatever it is isn't that dire or we'd all be blown to bits by now," he continues in an attempt at lightening the mood — complete with signature grin — but she doesn't even notice.

Focusing instead on the task at hand, Tosh allows her adept fingers to fly across the keyboard; searching for the right folder, the correct file. When she finally finds it she takes a deep breath then squeaks out, "It was logged into the computer a little over two months ago."

The sudden crunch of static indicates to him that the source of her distress is an audio file and a poor quality one at that. At first he can barely hear anything and it takes him a few seconds before he even realizes there's someone talking.

"..is is .ete t…. .. .or…od, lo...n We … un… attack … ne.. …istance."

"Can you clear it up a little; get rid of some of the background noise?"

Tosh nods, enters a few commands into the computer and suddenly everything goes quiet. He's just about to ask if that's the end of the transmission when the now-identified voice comes through once more, this time loud and oh so painfully clear.

"I repeat, this is Pete Tyler of Torchwood, London. We are under attack and need assistance. Please respond!"

OOO

It has been so long since the last time Rose was on a proper shopping spree she had forgotten how cathartic it could be. It never ceases to amaze her how a few shops and a little extra cash to spare (or, in this case, someone else's credit card) can make your worries practically disappear.

It's not just about having a good time — though after everything she's been through lately she can't help but feel she deserves a little TLC — but also a trip of necessity. With only the clothes she came through the rift in and what little Gwen could spare, she was definitely in dire need of a new wardrobe.

Up until just a few days ago though a trip like this would've been out of the question. There had been a large increase in unusual power surges, minor alien threats, and the appearance of suspicious rift-raft to deal with. Everyone refused to admit to it but, after pouring over previous mission reports, Rose knew it had all started around the time of her arrival and despite the steady decline in missions over the last week she had almost refused to stray so far from work. Jack had insisted however, saying that they'd be fine without his Torchwood girls, as he insisted on calling them, for a few hours.

Gwen had jumped at the idea but Tosh opted to stay behind, citing an overload of backed up work that needed her attention. Rose knew better though. No matter how hard she tried to befriend the petite Asian, she always seemed so distant, so aloof when it came to Rose. She was pretty sure it had something to do with Owen and his initial attraction to her, but Tosh had nothing to worry about as Rose had absolutely no interest whatsoever in this particular doctor.

So after spending hours away from the hub — and way too much of Jack's money — the two of them returned to Torchwood, arms laden with purchases. Luckily Ianto, ever the gentleman, opened the doors as neither had a free hand to do so themselves. Rose didn't miss the way he arched an eyebrow in the direction of the many multi-colored bags they carried or the way his eyes sparkled with amusement despite the almost stoic expression on his face.

She can't help but giggle at him, always the one respectable member of the team and yet so full of mischief. His face breaks into a grin as he ushers them through the next door and before it closes behind them she can hear him chuckling to himself. She doesn't even know what's so funny but soon her and Gwen are on the floor in hysterics, an occasional snort escaping unchecked from both.

It's so good to feel happy again that she doesn't care if they're making fools of themselves. It's been so very long since she truly smiled and she can't recall the last time she laughed at all. Oh, the sadness is still there — it'll never go away and she knows it — but it's pushed so far back, it's so out-of-reach that she can almost forget it ever existed.

Then, as quickly as it began, it's over. One look at Jack's face and she knows something is wrong. What she doesn't realize is just how serious it is…or that those moments of pure joy she just experienced will be her last for many months to come.

OOO

"Jack, what is it?" Gwen recovers first, rushing over to him but stops short when she sees he's staring straight at Rose.

"Jack?" Rose asks as she slowly stands and brushes herself off. He's starting to frighten her the way he hasn't even blinked.

"Tosh?" Gwen turns to the Asian woman for help.

"I…" She gives Gwen a vacant look then shakes her head and turns away.

"Jack, you're scaring me."

At the sound of Rose's voice he jumps slightly and screws up his face in what she is sure an attempt at reassurance. "Sorry, I didn't mean to…I just…" Scratching his head he looks so unsure of himself, so nervous and this frightens her even more. She can't recall a time she's ever seen Captain Jack Harkness without his usual self-assurance, his typical bravado.

She walks up to him and takes his hand in her smaller one, giving him a slight smile. "It's alright." Pulling him towards a couple of nearby chairs she continues, "Jus' tell me what's wrong, yeah? Whatever it is I'm sure we can get through it together."

His eyes grow misty at that and she's afraid he's about to cry. But he catches himself and suddenly he's guiding her, past the chairs and towards his office. "Let's talk someplace private."

OOO

It takes some convincing but Tosh finally explains to Gwen what's happening.

Rose's family living an impossibly unreachable distance away is in danger. What kind of danger Jack's not sure but something's happening over there in that alternate universe and there's nothing they can do to stop it. If there's even anything left to stop, after all it's been three months since the transmission, the call for help, was sent.

Gwen can tell Tosh is taking it hard. She's upset and guilt is writ all over her face. Though Gwen is certain she'd feel the same way, she wishes she could convince her teammate — her friend — that it's not all her fault. Even if they had discovered the distress signal sooner there was nothing they could've done about it.

She wants so badly to give Tosh these reassurances but she can't tear her attention away from the scene unfolding upstairs in Jacks' office. She has to shift to the other side of the room, straining her neck just to catch a glimpse of what's happening. It makes her feel sick to her stomach when she realizes she's acting just like the onlookers after a car accident, slowing down to gawk at the human tragedy sprawled out on the pavement.

OOO

At first she doesn't respond; doesn't say anything or make any sort of an indication that she's even heard him. She just stares right through him. He gives her a few minutes, knowing that she's trying to digest what he's just told her, before reaching across the desk to take her hand in his. He doesn't really think it is going to help her any — actions may speak louder then words but sometimes the hurt is so bad even a comforting touch cannot make things any better.

He knew this wasn't going to be easy. Knows Rose too well and how very important her family is to her; even if she was willing to leave all of them behind. It wasn't an easy decision for her to make, something they discussed numerous times when the darkness would get too lonely for either of them to take. It tore her up inside knowing that she'd probably never see any of them again and the guilt she felt had only grown when it became apparent that her whole purpose for being here instead of there would never be fulfilled.

When the tears cloud her eyes, then slowly fall one after another down her cheek, he reaches out to catch them. When her throat constricts with the overwhelming anguish she's trying so hard to keep in check he gives her hand a little squeeze. When she turns her head away from him in an attempt to avoid his gaze he doesn't stop her.

And when she asks the impossible in a surprisingly steady voice? When she wants to know when they can leave despite the fact that there's no way to do it? When she finally looks him in the eyes, strength and determination etched in her face?

OOO

Ianto comes in shortly after Jack and Rose shut themselves away.

Tosh tells him what happened in the same broken-up speech she gave Gwen. You can tell she wants nothing more then to find a hole to hide in, how much she wants to just curl up into a ball and forget that this day ever happened. He reaches out to put a comforting hand on her shoulder but he's never been good at this sort of thing and he allows his arm to fall back to his side instead.

OOO

She's pacing now, her face a flurry of one emotion after another. He's trying to keep his own in check, trying to stay brave for her sake, but it's hard seeing her in so much pain. And he can't help but feel that he understands, at least a little bit, what she's going through right now.

"Why not?" she turns suddenly to him, eyes blazing. It's the first thing she's said in ten minutes. The first thing she's said since asking him when they could leave and travel to that out-of-reach alternate universe to save her family.

Still trying to let her down easy he repeats what he's been saying all this time, "Rose, it's been three months. Whoever…whatever was invading has already come and gone by now. There'll be nothing left to do, no one left to save."

She flinches at that last line but doesn't let up, "An' what if there is Jack? What if they're all still alive and waiting, waiting for me to come and save them?" She's stubborn and persistent, and he loves that about her. "What if they die three days from now when I could have saved them today? What then?"

Though he doubts there is anyone or anything left to save this is exactly what he's been waiting for her to say. She needs to have that glimmer of hope that she can do something about all of this, needs to really want the opportunity to at least try, if she's going to agree with what he has in mind.

OOO

When Owen shows up Gwen takes it upon herself to tell him what's going on, sparing Tosh the pain of repeating again what is so obviously tearing her up inside. Afterward, instead of picking a spot closest to the action, he joins Tosh at her desk. No one notices it when he takes her hand in his; they're all too busy listening to the screams coming from Jacks' office.

OOO

"No," she says, vehemently shaking her head.

"We don't have the technology or the resources here, Rose. You should know that by now."

"I said no!" She's screaming now and he takes a step back. He's never seen her angry before and certainly never with him. "There has to be another way."

OOO

For over an hour, less then that for some of them, the team watches Jack and Rose intently. They don't even think about the fact that they are essentially prying into a matter that is really none of their business, except if you consider that the situation at hand is hurting their friend.

They've only known her for a few short months. It's been a mere sixteen weeks since they were introduced to their newest teammate. But it doesn't matter how long or short of a time you've known someone, what matter's is the bond that you've formed with him or her during said time. And each member of Torchwood would have, even after a mere quarter of a year, laid his or her lives on the line for one Rose Tyler.

OOO

She's sobbing uncontrollably now and though it hurts Jack immensely to see her like this, he knows it's the only way. "We have to call him," Jack whispers, arms held tight around her violently shaking body. "He's their only chance."


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** Doctor Who owns my soul, I own nothing.**  
Spoilers: **Through season three  
**Thanks To: **Snowfox3 for the beta

* * *

It's a brilliant night. The utter lack of cloud cover permits the stars to shine down, small twinkling lights reflecting off the bay. The temperature is mild, making it a perfect evening for a leisurely stroll or to just sit down on a bench somewhere and enjoy it. But looks can be deceiving and Jack can feel it in his gut, the dread of things to come.

He doesn't have to wait too long, which is a good thing. He's afraid he wouldn't have the nerve to go through with this if given too much of an opportunity to change his mind. But shortly after taking his position in the designated meeting spot he hears the sound of familiar footsteps.

"You too embarrassed to let me meet your team?" It's asked in a joking manner but Jack can hear the underlying tension, knows the man standing behind him is only barely keeping his voice calm.

He shakes his head, keeping his eyes on the multitude of lights that have always tempted him to return to his former life traveling amongst them. He's found that he cannot face his friend, not now, not with what he has to tell him. He knows the news may break him but there's no other way.

"You'll meet them soon enough." He pauses to gather his thoughts, to figure out how exactly he's going to go about this. "There's just…there's something you need to know about before you go down there."

"But Martha doesn't?" There's a tinge of suspicion in his voice.

"She already knows," Jack replies before thinking of the consequences of such a declaration.

The Doctor shifts then, moving to stand next to Jack at the railing. He too leans forward, hands clasped together as he contemplates the water that spreads out in front of them. "So what is it, Jack?"

He sighs, unsure of exactly how to proceed from here. He's gone over this conversation in his head countless times for the past few hours and still he has no idea what is the best way to tell him. How exactly do you tell your best friend that the girl he thought he'd lost forever, not to another man but to another universe, has somehow despite all logic came back and no one has told him?

"Look, whatever it is I'm sure it's not as bad as you think it is," the Doctor says, turning to look at him.

Pushing away from the railing, Jack retreats to a bench a few feet behind them. There's no other way to go about this. No matter how he tells him it's not going to be easy. Better to just take the plunge and get it out of the way as quickly as possible. "Rose is back, has been for about four months now," he blurts out and watches as the Doctor's shoulders slowly tense.

You'd think that after being the bearer of bad news once already today that Jack would be prepared for just about any sort of reaction. And though he wasn't really sure exactly how the Doctor would respond he never expected anything like this. Instead of getting angry or staring at him in shock, instead of asking why or how or asking anything at all, instead of reacting in any way imaginable…he just stands there. He doesn't move and he doesn't make a sound and, though Jack cannot see his face, he is certain his expression is blank.

"She's been working here at Torchwood with me, doing a pretty good job too. Guess all that traveling with you really paid off." Jack knows he's starting to babble but he can't help himself, can't stand the silence. If only the Doctor would say something. "I've actually just started on creating an identity for her. Make it all official, you know. That way she can be on the payroll and maybe even get herself into her own flat, instead of living in one of the spare rooms we've got here." He laughs a little but it comes out sounding strained and he manages to stop himself before he makes more useless banter.

"This is what you needed to tell me?" The Doctor is quiet at first, almost whispering but as his anger grows so too does the pitch of his voice. "You called me, forced me to come all this way and leave a perfectly good sun implosion to tell me this?!" He still hasn't turned around yet and Jack's not sure if he's grateful for that or not.

"No actually that's not why I called you." Rising from his seat, Jack begins to pace. "We received a transmission earlier today…well, actually we received it about three months ago but no one noticed it until now."

The Doctor snickers at this and Jack can swear he hears him mumble something about an incompetent team. He lets it go. "It's from the other universe, Pete's universe. They're apparently in some sort of danger, an invasion he said. We're not sure what from but they're asking for help."

"So she has absolutely no desire to see me, to even talk to me and let me know that she's here and she's alright but when she suddenly needs a favor I'm the first person on her list to call?" He whips around and storms over to where Jack has stopped dead in his tracks. It may be dark out but there's no mistaking the look in his eyes, the look that legends are made of. "Is that all I am to you, to her, just the local intergalactic helpline?"

Jack whimpers at the fury that is before him. This is what they mean when they call him "The Oncoming Storm". This is the look that can stop aliens in their tracks and make lesser men wet themselves in fear…but not Jack. Not when it's Roses' honor at stake.

"It's not like that, Doc."

"Then tell me Captain. Jack. Harkness. What it is like?"

He musters up his courage and meets the Doctor eye to eye, "that's not my place. It's Roses' and when…if…she decides to tell you you'll listen and mind the way you treat her."

"And why should I stick around for the possibility she might deign me worthy of such a revelation? Why should I help her?" And there it is, the hurt that Jack has been dreading even more then the rage. He's trying to cover it up but there's no denying that look on his face and the waver in his voice.

"Because she needs you right now. Because you're the only one who can help her, can help her whole family and a whole 'nother universe." He takes a step closer to the Doctor and lays a hand on his shoulder. "Because no matter what, she still loves you and you love her. And maybe, just maybe…" he trails off here knowing that he's already said more then he should, told him something he promised he wouldn't.

But the tactic worked and he knows if he gives his friend just a little more time, that he'll come around and they'll walk into Torchwood together. He doesn't doubt for a minute that somehow this brilliant man will figure out a way to save the world again, even if his hearts break in the process.

Jack isn't one to believe in a higher power but he finds himself saying a mental prayer to whoever might be listening that somehow, when all is said and done, the two people he cares about the most in this life will find a way back to each other.

OOO

It's quiet in the hub when, a half an hour later, they descend in the lift. The Doctor's never used it before, never even been inside this new version of Torchwood, but he cannot find it in him to be impressed. Too much has been drained out of him at this point to care, even when the resident dinosaur glides over his head.

He knew the instant he heard Jack's voice on Martha's mobile that something was wrong. You can't spend months traveling with someone and not learn to read them as easily as a Time Tot can read Shakespeare. Even before the call he could sense it in every atom, could feel the horror of things to come. So it wasn't as if he wasn't prepared…but never in all nine hundred and some odd years would he have expected this.

It's as though everywhere he turns lately all he finds is betrayal and lies. The Master he understands, though he had hoped that knowing they were the last of the Time Lords would've somehow changed things between them. But Rose?

He doesn't want to think about her though. Doesn't want to dwell on the fact that she's been here so long...so very, very long without contacting him. Shaking his head to clear it, he attempts to focus instead on the cavernous room Jack called the hub.

As the lift slowly descends deeper underground, he makes a visual sweep of the area taking only minimal notes about the set-up and possible alien tech. His mind is spinning, his hearts aching like never before and he can only just barely keep his thoughts in the here and now. If he were a different sort of man he would've turned tail and run, never looking back. But he isn't and he can't. Just one of many curses he has to live with for the rest of his life, the inability to turn down a call for help.

When the lift finally comes to a stop he notices the small group of people standing nearby waiting, expectantly. The one face he longs to see the most is missing but he graciously accepts their hands as the introductions are made; Ianto — the way he looks at Jack they must be lovers, Gwen — her face full of kindness and concern, she reminds him so much of Rose, Tosh — her body language is screaming of a guilty concscious but for what he's not sure, and Owen — he stands protectively close to the Asian woman and the Doctor has to wonder if they're together.

After the introductions are over Jack leads all of them to a conference room. The large table in the center is covered in folders, files most likely concerning the mission they are about to take on. On the far wall is a monitor, the screen blank. There's a carafe of water and enough glasses for everyone already present, plus two more. He takes the seat farthest from the rest of them and waits.

"Alright Doc, if you wanna take a look at the information Tosh has prepared," Jack indicates the paper's in front of him. "Everything we know so far is in there." He can tell Jack's still nervous, even a little bit terrified of him but he doesn't care. He knows he should, knows he should feel awful over the way he treated him earlier but right now he could care less about Jack's feeling.

"I'll go get Martha and Rose and then we can begin."

OOO

It's been at least two hours since Jack left to meet with the Doctor and she can't help but wonder if things didn't go as planned. A small part of her actually hopes he won't be willing to help, than she won't have to face him. More then that though she wants to save her family and, no matter how much she might wish it otherwise, he's the only one that can make that possible.

She smiles at Martha, who's been keeping her company since shortly after Jack left. So she knows he's here, knows he must know by now about her. And yet, no one's come to get her. She hopes he hasn't hurt Jack but no, the Doctor would never do anything to harm his friend, even with the revelation he had in store for him.

Just as she's about to get up and peek her head out of the room there's a light rasp on the door. "Yea?" she squeaks, then clears her throat and tries again. "Yea?"

Jack steps into her room and she can tell by the way he holds himself it's been a rough couple of hours. "We're all set. Just waiting on the two of you to get things in order."

"How did he…?" Martha begins but can't quite finish, which is fine because they all know what she's asking about.

Jack sighs. "We knew he wouldn't take it well. But he's here and he's willing to help."

Rose nods and tries to stand but her legs just don't want to support the weight of her body. She swore she wouldn't let him affect her like this, promised herself she'd put on a brave face and not let him see just how much this is hurting her too. She kind of half-falls, half-sits back down on her bed and suddenly Jack is by her side pulling her gently into his arms.

"I'm so sorry," he whispers into her hair. "If there was any other way, any way at all I'd have been the first to suggest it."

She tries to swallow past the lump in her throat but can't. Trying to speak now would not be a good idea so she simply squeezes him back in reassurance. She knows.

They stay there like that for a few moments before Jack pulls away and gives her his bestest, brightest smile; though it's lacking the brilliance it normally carries. "You ready?"

She nods again, still not trusting her voice and allows Jack to help her up. As they walk down the hallway — Jack arm-in-arm with her, Martha comfortingly close behind — she can't help but wonder what she's done to deserve their support. After all the horrible things she seen (truly awful things that were all her doing) and all the lives she's destroyed, it's impossible to understand why these people would continue to stand by her side.

But they do and she loves them for it.

Pausing just outside the door Jack asks her once more if she's ready. She's not, not really. What she'd really like to do right about now is turn tail and run as fast as her legs can carry her in the opposite direction. But there's no turning back now and the sooner they step through that door the sooner they can get this rescue mission underway.

Taking a deep breath, she nods and waits for him to open the door.


	3. Chapter 3: Part One

**Disclaimer:** Doctor Who owns my soul, I own nothing.**  
Spoilers: **Through season three  
**Thanks To: **Snowfox3 for the beta

* * *

An uncomfortable silence falls over the room the moment Jack leaves.

Most of them refuse to even look in his direction and he can tell he makes them uncomfortable but that's just fine with him. Considering the circumstances he doesn't really want to make small talk with these people. They are Jack's team, Roses' teammates…and other then their potential usefulness in finishing this mission they are of no concern to him.

Flipping quickly through the folder in front of him reveals nothing the Doctor doesn't already know or hasn't already guessed. The transmission came into the hub weeks ago but no one noticed it until now. The message itself was short and to the point, as are most distress calls, revealing nothing of the danger they might be facing. And, of course, attempts had been made to send a reply, to no avail. No surprise there either.

Pushing the file across the table with a sigh he starts fidgeting with the cuffs on his jacket. Never one to be able to sit still or keep his mouth shut for long, this whole waiting business is rubbing his already raw nerves the wrong way. So, when the door to the conference room finally opens, he greets the arrivals with both relief and trepidation.

Jack enters first, followed quickly by Martha. And for a brief few seconds they stand there together, shoulder-to-shoulder. They're hiding her from him, protecting her from his presence for just that little bit longer. It's upsetting that they'd feel the need to do such a thing, that they'd think he'd intentionally harm Rose in any way.

But of course just seeing him, just being in his presence, is apparently enough to upset her.

Jack and Martha regard him cautiously, as though expecting some sort of a scene, and he feels a flash of anger. They've shown where their loyalties lie and they're obviously not with him. Jack he can understand, Jack who made it apparent from the beginning that he'd be more then happy to rush in and sweep Rose off her feet if the opportunity ever arose.

But Martha? She who made her feelings toward his former companion well known every chance she had? The woman who crinkled her nose up in distaste every time he dared mention the woman he'd lost? When did she become Roses' best mate? When did she…

And then suddenly the two of them separate, allowing her to enter the room too, and he loses all thoughts of betrayal and friends lost. Everything around him — every sound, every scent, every thought — is forced to the sidelines as his field of vision narrows so that all he can see is her.

If he didn't know any better he'd swear that time had just literally stood still.

She hesitates in the doorway and their eyes meet. It doesn't last for long, just a fraction of a fraction of a second, but it's long enough for him to see everything, every emotion. Pain and fear are the most apparent, followed closely by guilt and then something else…something he can't read. It's hidden deep in the depths of her soul, barricades and walls surrounding it, but it's there and there's something not quite right about it.

OOO

She swore to herself she wouldn't look at him, knew that if she did her resolve just might break. But she can't help herself, the overwhelming urge to see him again is just too strong.

The instant their eyes meet a surge of emotions hits, almost overpowering her. Her legs feel like they're going to buckle under the weight of his gaze and the overwhelming sense of familiarity — the sense of coming home — it brings with it. She misses him so much it feels, at times, like she is going to break into a million pieces without him.

But she can't do this, she can't let him back in, because if he knew...

Quickly she lets the memories — those horrible, awful memories — dig themselves out of the hole she's buried them in. Never would she have thought that she would willingly subject herself to them again but she does.

And that's all it takes to strengthen her resolve once more.

OOO

He doesn't miss the flicker in her eyes as her once kind gaze goes so very cold and distant. It's like a knife through his hearts but he can't tear his eyes away from her no matter how hard he tries.

He watches in amazement, as she stands a little straighter, just that little bit taller before making her way around the table. She's poised and so much surer of herself then she ever was before. Gone is the young, naive girl he first met so many years ago and he can't help but feel a surge of pride.

But it's not just who she's become inside that he's noticed, it's her physical attributes as well. She's allowed her hair to grow out, no traces of the blond she once preferred left. He never thought he'd see the day when she'd be happy with her natural color but he likes it. And it definitely goes better with the new clothes too. No more pink hoodies with jeans, instead she's dressed sensibly in form fitting slacks and a reasonable shirt. She's so completely different from the Rose he once knew...and she's absolutely gorgeous!

Shaking his head to clear it, he tries to tear his eyes away from her. The gawking has to stop and he knows it. Time Lords don't gawk but his body no longer seems to be under the control of his brilliant mind and he can't help himself. He's dreamed of this day, of seeing her again, so many times. Never, not once, in the past two years did a day go by that he didn't think of her and what he'd do if he ever managed to find a way around impossible. He never imagined their happy reunion would end up anything like this though.

Realty is oftentimes a lot harsher then fantasy after all.

OOO

She can feel his eyes burning a hole in her back as she slowly but surely makes her way to the other side of the room. Can sense his emotions rolling off him in waves and there's no denying, not anymore, that she's hurt him deeply.

Shoulder's tense and back straight she head directly for the chair on the far side of the table reserved just for her. Jack's standing next to it, holding it out for her, and she knows he's doing everything within his power to make her as comfortable as possible. But does she deserve it? Ignoring everything else she's done, does she still deserve this kind of treatment when she just intentionally hurt the one person who means more then anything else in this universe — or any other for that matter — to her?

Does her action merit the kind look or the gentle caress he, the man she's torn between two friends, gives her?

She doesn't think so.

OOO

The Doctor doesn't miss the way Jack holds the chair out for her, that suave and oh-so-caring look on his face. Nor does it escape his attention, though he almost wishes it did, the way the man he once considered his friend intimately rubs the back of the woman he once considered his lover (even if he never told her).

It very nearly breaks him.

He's so busy trying to control the rage that's slowly brewing in the pit of his stomach that he doesn't even notice Martha sitting down next to him. Which would explain the way he jumps when she places her hand on his. Everyone turns to see what the commotion is, everyone except Rose that is, and he can feel his cheeks burning not with embarrassment but anger.

Yanking his hand out from under Martha's he focuses his attention on the one spot in the room that's safe, the screen that covers most of the back wall. At some point during the last few minutes someone must've turned it on and he stares blankly at the readout that's currently scrolling across it.

Jack clears his throat and the Doctor can hear the scraping of chairs as all eyes turn towards their leader. "Alright people, we have a lot of stuff to take care of and little time with which to work with. Tosh?"

"Right, well what we know is this…" she begins but he blocks out the sound of her voice as she goes on about things he already knows. Why are they wasting his time and theirs? He may be a Time Lord, may be able to bend the flow of it as it suits him, but even he understands just how important it is to not waste of a single second of it. Or at least he does now.

"Ok," Jack's much louder, much more jarring voice interrupts his thoughts. "For those of you who haven't already heard it this is the transmission we received." He pushes a button on the laptop sitting on the table in front of him and a sound file begins to play. "It was mostly just static before Tosh cleaned it up a bit. Couldn't hear anything but a few syllables here and there."

Cleaned it up a bit? All he can hear is the static and what sounds like someone rubbing their hand across a microphone. He's just about to get annoyed when he hears Pete's voice coming through loud and clear, "This is Pete Tyler, Torchwood Cardiff. We are under attack and need immediate assistance. Can anyone hear me?"

The message is painfully clear and he can just make out the sounds of screaming and gunfire in the background. It's hard enough for him to listen to…he can't even begin to imagine what it's doing to Rose. But she's sitting there in front of him, a whole table away, her back as straight as when she came in. There's no outward response from her, at least none that he can see.

The transmission ends and Jack continues, "That's about all we know. We've tried to find a way to send a message back through but so far it doesn't appear to have worked." He turns his attention fully to the Doctor now, as do all the other faces in the room minus one. "And that's where you come in Doc. Can you get us into the other universe?"

He's not sure if he can, not sure if there is anyway to do it without causing two separate universes' to implode. It was the same problem he had in reaching Rose and bringing her back here, where she belonged. But there's obviously a new tear somewhere, a tear that might just be big enough…

"Well, yeah, I should be able to," he scratches the back of his neck, action mode taking over. "That is, if the rip in time Pete's message came through is large enough to fit the Tardis through. It might not even be around anymore, come to think of it. They don't typically close up on their own but stranger things have happened. Well, then there's the little problem of not tearing apart the whole of time and space…"

"Right," Jack interrupts him, "so when do we leave?". Always straight to the point that man is and, though it irritates him that he could be so rude, it's also a relief. He needs to get out of here as soon as he can, before he says or does something he'll regret later.

Rising to his feet in one swift motion the Doctor claps his hands together, "As soon as you're ready. I need to make a few alterations to the Tardis so we'll meet up there, yeah?" And before anyone can respond he's crossed the room, pulled open the door, and left.


	4. Chapter 3: Part Two

**Disclaimer:** Doctor Who owns my soul, I own nothing.**  
Spoilers: **Through season three  
**Thanks To: **Snowfox3 for the beta

* * *

Rose doesn't need to hear the door click shut in order to know he's left; she can sense his sudden absence as acutely, if not more so, then she did after Canary Wharf.

And it hurts just as bad.

Finally allowing her shoulders to drop, she can feel the tension radiating across her back like a bad burn. All her muscles are aching, screaming at her for forcing them to maintain such an uncomfortable position for so long. Exhausted, both physically and emotionally, from the events of the last few hours, she looks to Jack for the reassurance she needs so badly right now.

OOO

He knows she probably needs him right now but there's work yet left to be done.

He'd rather just leave the rest of the team behind, Rose included. Having his life be the only one on the line would be so much easier but one look at the faces watching him expectantly and Jack Harkness knows that plan is not going to fly. But who does he take with and who does he leave behind? How does he break the team up, providing the best possible protection for both universes?

It's a difficult decision but he's gotten used to making choices that could destroy someone's life. It's part of the job description after all, whether he likes it or not.

"Well, kids, the rift doesn't take a break just because we're on vacation," he starts off with a joke, hoping to lighten the mood a little, soften the blow he's about to deal to most of them. "Tosh," he turns first to the amazing technological genius on his left. "I need you to stay here, monitor all activity coming into and going out of the area and, if you can manage it, find a way to help me bridge the void and establish some sort of communication between this universe and the other."

Tosh nods quietly, looking neither terribly disappointed nor exactly happy about her assignment. Relief, that's what he sees in her face and he imagines she's still feeling guilty for not catching the distress signal sooner and is uncertain where that leaves her relationship with Rose. After giving him a quick hug and wishing him well, she crosses the room to do the same for Rose. He's relieved to know he got this one right but there's still three more sets of eyes trained on him, awaiting their fate.

Making sure he's clear about the reasons for his decisions, he informs Gwen and Ianto that they too will being staying behind. He doesn't miss the angry glare Gwen casts in his direction before he turns to his chief medical advisor but he knows that this is the way it's got to be. With the state of things in the other universe still unknown he needs the medical expertise that Owen will provide and, at the same time, Gwen's police experience makes her the best person to stay right here. He'd take Ianto with but the fewer he brings with, the fewer he's about to potentially strand in another universe, the better.

Once he's finished with the rest of the team, he strides over to Rose projecting an air of confidence he doesn't really feel.

OOO

"You alright?" Jack asks, sitting down next to her and gently cupping her cheek.

"As alright as I'm gonna be."

He nods in understanding and lets his hand fall into her lap. "Look, I know you probably won't want to but…you can stay here you know. Help keep an eye on things and let the rest of us save the day for you."

She shakes her head at this. She understands his reasons for offering but she just can't do it. "Nah, I'd probably go crazy listening to Ianto complain about how much he misses you," she jokes and his eyes light up just that little bit more to hear it. "Besides, it's my family we're talking about here. They're far more important then my comfort-level being around him, yeah?"

"Yeah," he agrees but she can tell he is disappointed she didn't take the out.

Giving his hand a quick squeeze, she rises from her seat. "Suppose I should probably get my things together. It's just too bad about all those new clothes you bought me."

He gives her a confused look but doesn't ask for clarification and she's glad of it. She doesn't want to get into it with him right now, doesn't want to tell him she might not be coming back.

OOO

Gwen waits in the hallway till everyone else has left; off doing whatever last minute preparations they need to before this mission starts. Once she's certain Jack is finally alone she slips quietly inside, pulling the door shut firmly behind her.

"What do you want, Gwen?" he asks, without even glancing in her direction.

She gets the feeling that he's been expecting her and it unnerves her just a little but not enough to deter her from what she came here for. "I want you to reconsider letting me come with.."

"We might not make it back," he says.

"I know."

Pushing away from the wall with a sigh, Jack joins her near the door. He's surprisingly calm but, when he reaches out a hand to brush a lock of hair out of her face, she can see just how bad it is trembling. "You may never see Rhys again. Never."

She doesn't respond, can't find the words to tell him just how bad things have gotten between her and her fiance. She doesn't want Jack to know that the almost nightly rows they've been having center around him and this bloody job that takes up all of her time lately.

But she can't stay behind, doesn't know what she'd do without his calming presence. The one person in the world who can make all the bad things practically disappear, and he's not even her bloke.

A shiver runs down her spine as his left hand joins the right, cradling her face. He hesitates for a moment before the pads of his fingers are gently stroking her face; across her forehead, the bridge of her nose, then lightly ghosting over her lips. She closes her eyes, trying so hard to just center herself and when she opens them again he's right there, so intimately close it would take only a slight shifting of her weight and his lips would be pressed against hers.

"Make certain you're sure then, Gwen. Make absolutely certain this is what you want."

OOO

Martha doesn't follow the Doctor back to the Tardis immediately, figuring he probably needs a little time to himself. Instead she watches as team Torchwood slowly gathers their things and makes the preparations they need to before leaving. She kind of misses this place and the people; though she's pretty sure she wouldn't see Owen making those eyes at Tosh if she had stuck around any longer.

Eventually Jack comes out of the conference room, Gwen trailing behind, and, after she heads off to her room, Martha pulls Jack aside. "Can you keep everyone here for a bit?"

"Sure thing, Ms. Jones. Got some errands to run?"

"Nah, nothing like that. I just…I need to talk to him alone for a little bit, ok?"

Jack looks at her warily. "Just be careful? He wasn't too happy with me earlier."

"It'll be fine, Jack," she reassures him. "This is the Doctor we're talking about."

OOO

Despite everything he's done — all the planets saved from certain destruction, all the beings rescued from certain doom — there's actually very little he takes any pride in. He's a Time Lord after all and Time Lords don't gain pleasure from something as inconsequential as their own achievements, no matter how important they might be.

There's one thing that does manage to instill a bit of pride in himself though; his Tardis. She's always been important to him, always been the one place that felt the most like home. And since the Time War her presence in his life has been even more paramount. He's been lucky though, lucky she's still with him and not decaying on some backwater planet. She's old after all, way older then any other Tardis he's ever heard of. And that, he knows, is just as much a tribute to her loyalty to him as his mechanical skills.

It's not as though he was born with these skills, learned them is more like it. Learned them from hundreds of years of tinkering — adjusting this and striping that — all in the name of avoidance. Yea, he knows that he does it. He isn't that dense, despite what some of his companions may have thought. And maybe it's wrong of him to do it, to ignore everything that makes him feel even the slightest bit uncomfortable, but it's the only defense mechanism he has. And it's worked.

Until today.

Five shocks, two cuts, and a dozen irritated mental nudges from the Tardis later and the Doctor finally decides to give up. He's simply not focused on the here and now enough to attempt a rewiring on this scale. His mind is too steeped in the past and one Rose Tyler; his plus one, his golden guardian angel, the woman he's finally admitted to himself he loves.

With a cry of frustration he yanks himself out from underneath the console, carelessly wiping his greasy hands on his jacket. Despite everything he's tried — from reciting the alphabet, or what would construe as such, in every language he knows (which is quite a lot) to naming each planet in every solar system he's ever visited (which is also quite a lot) — he cannot get her off of his mind.

Sitting there amongst the Tardis innards he feels the loneliness that he's held at bay for so long come rushing back at him. There's no one left to chase away the darkness, no one to hold his hand when it gets too much to deal with anymore. No one left who knows him, as much as any one being can and still be safe from the horrors in his mind. There was once — even when she was stuck in another world there was still that hope, that possibility that he'd see her again — but no more.

Glancing up he can see her on the monitor screen, his most recent companion, approaching the Tardis cautiously. Martha. He knew she'd be coming to see him before the rest were ready to go. She has something she has to get off her chest, something that's causing the guilt-ridden looks she's been carrying since she first returned to him.

He had known something was wrong the minute she stepped through the Tardis doors, those few months ago. He would've asked her about it but was so happy to have someone else around again, someone to keep him company, that he never bothered with it…was too worried he'd drive her away once more if he started to pry.

Now that he knows just what it was she had kept hidden from him he no longer cares how it makes her feel to have betrayed him. Oh, he hadn't missed Jack's comment about how Martha already knew. Already knew that Rose was here living in Cardiff, practically right under his nose…and literally too considering they'd stopped here to refuel at least twice since her return home.

Before she gets inside and can see him just standing there he starts fiddling with the miscellaneous wires that are still poking out from under the console. He doesn't want her to know how much he's hurting right now, doesn't want to give her that. He hears her open the door, notices the pause before she shuts it firmly behind her and walks over to where he is. He doesn't look up, doesn't even acknowledge her presence.

He can see her feet, clad in the nursing shoes she seems to prefer, mere inches away from his face. Still he keeps quiet, waiting for her to break the silence, letting her feel the tension he's been dealing with since they first arrived here.

She's stubborn, though, and it takes a good five minutes before she finally opens her mouth. "Doctor, I…"

"Don't worry about it," he cuts her off. He cannot stand the thought of listening to another person try to find the words to say what they're certain is going to hurt him. "I already know."

If she's shocked or upset she doesn't let on. "I didn't want ta…" She's trying to sound confident but is failing miserably.

"I said don't worry about it." He drags himself out from underneath the console, putting his sonic screwdriver back in his pocket. "What's done is done." She smiles at this, thinking everything is alright between them and he forges on, revealing in the idea that he's about to hurt her, though not nearly as much as she's hurt him. "When we get back the first stop we'll make is your parent's house. Don't want to keep you from them any longer then necessary."

She blinks, a look of hurt and confusion marring her features.

"You've had your fun. I think it's about time you get back to the real world," he says in explanation. "The only reason I'm bringing you with this one last time is because you and Rose have become such good friends," he finishes, twisting the knife just that little bit harder.

Just as she opens her mouth to respond the Tardis door swings open and he can't help but smile to himself. He planned that perfectly.


	5. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer:** Doctor Who owns my soul, I own nothing.**  
Spoilers: **Through season three  
**Thanks To: **Snowfox3 for the beta

* * *

They're expecting a longer trip, a bumpier ride. His companions, both former and current, know just how hit and miss a trip in the Tardis can be. They realize it's just as likely that they'll end up at the end of the world or on a completely different planet as it is they'll actually see the place they're aiming for on the first, second, or even thirty third try.

Amazingly enough, this time things work out exactly as planned.

Despite anticipating a higher degree of difficulty in crossing the void, the Doctor manages to find a rip in the fabric of the universe fairly quickly. He's kind of surprised actually that it ends up being this easy; it's almost as if the huge ragged tear was placed there intentionally and was just waiting for him to find it. The trip through gets a little rough but it's nowhere near as bad as it could've been, especially considering his track record.

The miracles don't end there either. Figuring the only way he can be certain they'll be able to help (and avoiding the potential of having to cross his own time-line if they show up too late), the Doctor decides on a date just a few days after the distress call was sent out. When they open the Tardis' doors they find that he not only got the time right but somehow managed to land them smack dab in the middle of Torchwood.

The guards posted just outside the door of the room they land in (turns out it's a weapons storage) are not as impressed. In fact, they're very much NOT happy with this turn of events and quickly begin to lead the group at gunpoint to the holding cells in the basement. They never make it that far though, as Pete Tyler gets wind of the commotion just before they enter the elevator and puts an end to the whole misunderstanding.

Only one man could've mysteriously shown up in a locked room, claiming to have traveled there in his space ship which looks suspiciously like a telephone box.

And if said man was here, in this universe, then it means Rose is here with him.

OOO

"We've missed you so much honey," he's practically crying as he holds Rose tight to his chest. He never would have guessed that the two of them would form such a close bond between them, not after everything that had happened. He still cringes when he thinks about how he treated her that first time they met and she tried to tell him he was her dad in a whole 'nother universe.

After Canary Wharf it was especially hard, those first few months. She barely spoke to her own mother much less Pete, spending all of her free time in her room with the door locked. But then came her confession of an impossible dream and hearing the Doctor calling to her, telling her to come find him. Jackie didn't want to believe it at first, couldn't stand the idea of infusing that hope in her daughter that she knew would only end in heartache. It took him nearly an hour to convince her otherwise and at that point Rose, Mickey, and the jeep were already ready and waiting for them.

That was when things started to change between him and Rose but it wasn't until Jackie's surprise revelation to him and the devastating goodbye at Bad Wolf Bay before they reached the true turning point in their relationship.

With her mum spending most of her days either in the loo or resting (the pregnancy was a difficult one to say the least), and Mickey busy with a life of his own, Rose began to lean on Pete more and more for support. They became best mates, spending many a late night together in front of the roaring fire talking about life. Unsurprisingly, the topic being discussed the most was something they both had way too much experience with...loss. Rose having lost her father, to all extents and purposes twice, and then, suffering the ultimate loss of all; the man that she loved. Pete too, had a deep understanding of this painful subject. From his first wife, his first Jackie, to the most recent loss of...

But he doesn't want to think about that right now. Doesn't want to dwell on the past and the suffocating memories of that time.

"Oh, dad," Rose sighs, melting into his arms. "I missed you too."

There's a slight hitch to her voice, one that he won't pretend to believe has anything to do with the current reunion. From the moment his eyes first fell on her, being lead down the corridor by an armed guard, he noticed the tension, the way her body language was practically screaming in pain. He has no idea what's wrong but something horrible has happened to her since she left and, though he wants to find out what, now is not the time or the place to do so.

Freeing one arm from around her waist but not letting her go completely— his paternal instincts have definitely kicked in at this point and he knows, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that he will protect her from whatever it is that's hurting her — he offers his hand to the only other familiar face in the crowd. "Good to see you too, old man."

The Doctor nods and returns the firm grip but doesn't even make an attempt at a smile. "Yes, yes. You too Pete, you too." He's looking surprisingly uncomfortable and Pete wonders if whatever is going on with Rose has something to do with him…or maybe it's because the last time they were here he lost the woman that he loved. "So tell us what the problem is exactly? We've come all this way to help out and it doesn't look like you need any," he continues, glancing around at the personnel that are moving leisurely through the halls.

"I'm not sure what you're…oh, wait the invasion!" Pete can't help but smile even bigger. "We halted their attempts yesterday morning. Obviously we thought they were a much bigger threat then they actually were."

"So you're ok then," Rose asks looking up at him, relief written all over her face.

"Yup, and even better now that you're here. Your mother is going to be so happy to see you!"

"Actually," the Doctor interrupts, "since there's no invasion to help end we really should be getting back to our own universe. I need to seal up the tears before we have an even bigger mess on our hands then you lot did." Pete thinks he hears a note of sarcasm in the Doctor's voice and he'd pursue the matter further but he's just so happy to have Rose home — even if it's just for a little bit — that he dismisses it.

"Ah, come on Doc," he says slapping the Time Lord on the back. "You didn't come all this way just to up and leave five minutes after you got here. I'm sure the universe won't implode if you stay for a tic. Besides, Jackie will hunt you down and kill you if she finds out you took off without even letting her say hi to her daughter!"

It takes a little more convincing but eventually the Doctor agrees that they can manage a visit. He reminds all of them of the consequences of staying too long though as Pete happily ushers them into his office. After a round of introductions he picks up the phone to give Jackie a call.

OOO

He'd rather be any other place but here. In fact, any one of the multiple prison cells he's spent time in over the years would do quite nicely. Not only did they arrive to late for the invasion (saving the world once again would've at least made the trip worth it) but now they are being forced to stay for the family reunion. He doesn't do domestic and this is about as domestic as it comes. Just as he's about to excuse himself to the Tardis though, the discussion turns to the aliens that had up until a day ago been poised to take over Earth.

"Mickey called them…'fampry', I think it was," Pete begins.

The Doctor's ears perk up at this. "Fampir? As in Nosferatu, Stregoni benefici, Incubus, Succubus, the vampire Lestat. Sharp teeth, stake through the heart, creatures of the night…blood suckers?"

"Wait a second," Owen says turning from the large window he's been staring out of the past fifteen minutes. "Are you trying to tell us they're vampires? Actual, for real, "I vant to suck your blood" vampires?"

Gwen giggles at his over-the-top movie accent.

"Mickey mentioned something about them, these vampires," Pete interrupts shaking his head. "But I'm afraid I've never heard of them before."

"How could you not…"

"It's a whole 'nother universe here, Gwen." Jack explains. "What's commonplace for us may be completely unheard of for them. Heck, just take one look at the sky and you can't miss how different things are here," he waves his hand towards the window just as a Zeppelin floats by. "How's that for timing?" he grins.

"So how about we humor the poor naive, alternate Pete for a minute and please tell me what exactly a vampire is?"

"Well," the Doctor begins, rubbing his right earlobe as he paces the room. "They're fantasy creatures really, no real truth to the myth. Though, then again…werewolves in Scotland?" He turns towards Rose, a grin slowly spreading across his face. They used to share so many laughs over their past adventures and the time they met Queen Victoria had always been one of her favorites. But she doesn't return the smile and the events of the last few hours come rushing back to him.

"Anyway…what was I talking about again," he babbles, crossing to the other side of the room and as far away from her as possible. "Ah yes, vampires. Legend says they are humans, undead humans mind you, that feed on blood. Dracula, the most famous on screen and in books, was actually based on one Vlad Ţepeş, or Vlad the Impaler. Nasty man. Met him once just to see what all the hubbub was about and he definitely wasn't someone you'd want to bring home to mom."

"Doc?" Jack breaks in, tapping his watch.

Before he can reply, Pete speaks up, "But these creatures, these vampires, they drink a person's blood right?" After receiving a few nods of accession he continues, "Then they're not the same thing as the creatures we dealt with. I mean they did drain a person of something but it wasn't blood, it was — for lack of a better way to say it — life."

A few exclamations circulate throughout the room as the Doctor stops his pacing and looks up at Pete. "They drained a person's life?" he asks incredulously. This is certainly a new and interesting twist on the whole vampire myth.

"Yea, well they called it culling. Said something about having to feed on humans in order to survive, tried to make it sound all apologetic and nice. They even suggested that if we were to be so kind as to offer up a few sacrifices they'd be on their way, leaving the rest of us alone."

"Yeah right, aliens with a conscious," Owen snickers.

"Obviously we refused. We told them that no loss was an acceptable loss, told them that if they left without any bloodshed that we'd allow them to exit our airspace unharmed."

"Which they didn't."

"Of course not," Pete grins back at Jack. "And that was when we first saw this feeding of theirs. They sent a few "representatives" as they called them, down to see if they could "negotiate" with us. We naively believed them and allowed it to happen but what they really wanted to do was scare us into submission." His gestures become more animated at this point and it's obvious he's getting angry. "We sent a few of our finest men, fine young men, out to meet them and before anyone could stop it they were dead. I watched it with my own eyes, watched as they visibly aged in just a matter of minutes until there was nothing, no life whatsoever, left in them."

Rose, who's been quiet all this time, reaches out and places a comforting hand on Pete's arm. "'m so sorry dad. It's all my fault. If I hadn't…"

But before she can finish her statement the doors to Pete's office are thrown open and a giddy Jackie Tyler comes bounding into the room. "Rose, luv!" she squeals, pushing past everyone in her way in order to get to her daughter.

He has so many questions burning in the back of his mind that he'd like answered but more then that he wants to get away before the human boa constrictor turns her attentions on him. Using the distraction that a new round of introductions brings, he sneaks out the still-open door and slowly makes his way back to the Tardis. He can scour the library and database for any references to these strange life-thirsty aliens while waiting for the family reunion to end.

What he'd really like to know though is why Rose seems to think this whole invasion is somehow her fault.

OOO

Three hours and many stories later, just as the strange group of people from another universe are standing to take their leave, the young man rasps lightly on Mr. Tyler's door. He's only been here once before, during his preemployment interview, and he's feeling a little nervous.

He's heard all the stories about Mr. Tyler, how he's a kind and friendly boss who oftentimes joins his employees for lunch or while they're deciphering a particularly difficult alien text. He hasn't seen it though. They say it's because of his daughter and her recent departure; that he's been so broken up by it he rarely leaves his office. Mark's not so sure.

See Mark was raised with the belief that classes, for the most part, do not mix — the rich and the poor, the famous and the average Joe, bosses and their employees. In fact it's been in his experience that bosses only care about their employees insofar as they get their work done.

He's also seen this sort of reaction before where some higher-up authority figure gains, for whatever reason, stories of intense kindness and grandeur. Said person usually ends up sounding more like a God then just another bloke like the rest of the world. The stories are never true though and he has no reason to believe they are this time.

He doesn't really feel comfortable being here, can't stand the idea of intruding on his boss' private family reunion (oh yea, everyone knows now who the mysterious strangers are that showed up out of nowhere). But Mr. Tyler's phone is off the hook and as the low man on the totem pole Mark always seems to get the gopher jobs.

He doesn't have to wait long before the door is opened for him. Standing on the other side, smiling kindly and waving him in, is a beautiful woman with eyes so piercing he's certain she must be seeing straight through to his soul. From the fantastical accounts of his co-workers, accounts that he never put much weight in, he's able to determine that this must be Rose, his boss' daughter.

Their fantastical accounts don't even come close to describing her beauty.

"Ahem, Mark?" Pete clears his throat with some amusement.

He hadn't realized he'd been staring. "Sir!" he responds with as much confidence as he can muster. His cheeks are burning and he gives himself a mental slap for being so rude and disrespectful. He was raised with more manners then this.

"What is it Mark?"

For a second he forgets why he's come here, still distracted by the lovely and oh-so-sad woman that's standing before him, a look of concern marring her perfect features. "I ah…"

"Yes?"

Then it all comes rushing back to him. Arriving at work to a completely inappropriate celebratory mood dominating his department. Brushing off all the attempts at getting him to join in the merriment. Ignoring the teasing as he took his place at his workstation. Then the sudden realization, as he stared at his screen, that things had taken a turn for the worse.

"We've got a problem sir."


	6. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer:** Doctor Who owns my soul, I own nothing.**  
Spoilers: **Through season three  
**Thanks To: **Snowfox3 for the beta

* * *

"Hey, Doc, change in plans," Jack's voice crackles over the intercom the former Time Agent had installed during his first stint in the Tardis.

Sighing, the Doctor sets down the book he's been reading. His initial search for a species similar to the one Pete had described turned up with nothing. So, while waiting for the others to return he had figured he'd catch up on some of his reading. This book in particular — The Trials of Cross-Breeding Alien Fauna — had piqued his interest many years ago but he hadn't had the opportunity to pick it up till now.

"Pete says you should meet us in the communications room, which is…" There's a pause and he can hear Jack asking someone for directions. "Oh, well, that's convenient. Com room is five doors down from you on the left."

He contemplates ignoring the Captain's call but there's a certain urgency in his voice that the Doctor can't deny. After a moment's hesitation he pulls his jacket back on and goes in search of the others.

The first thing he notices, upon entering the room, is the large group of people huddled around one of the work stations. The rest of the space is empty of inhabitants, making the cold, almost clinical-like atmosphere that much more glaring.

It's a fairly large room filled with row-after-row of work stations similar to the one that's currently garnering so much attention. Each station holds a personal computer and nothing more; no personal belongings, no family photos, no coffee mugs proclaiming world's best dad or mum in bright lettering on the side. The floor is made of a simple grey tiling, the walls nothing more then white slabs. There's no carpeting, no rugs and no posters, not even of the sort that would normally adorn a typical workplace environment (of course this isn't your average run-of-the-mill job but still).

"There's more of 'em then last time," he hears a familiar yet unrecognizable voice mumbling.

His presence, so far, has gone unnoticed so he clears his throat to gain their attention. When the heads all turn as one towards him, he realizes that they've gained a few extra faces, familiar faces.

"Doctor." Mickey nods curtly in his direction, tight-lipped and looking none-too-pleased. He's actually quite glad to see Rose's ex but for whatever reason the feeling doesn't seem to be mutual. He's fairly sure it has everything to do with the current situation and not Rose...but that doesn't stop the doubt from setting in. Maybe Mickey too has turned against him. Not like they were really all that close but he thought both of them had made it to a point of mutual understanding and respect.

"Mickey," he replies cautiously, then beams when he notices another old friend — this time with a much friendlier face — amongst them. "Jake! Good to see you lad!"

Jake waves and smiles in his direction but is too intent on what's happening on the screen in front of him to respond. As the Doctor crosses the room he pulls his glasses out of his pocket and places them on his face. Sliding through the huddled mass and into a position that allows for optimum viewing of the computer monitor they've all been so focused on, he doesn't miss the fact that he's now within mere inches of Rose.

She doesn't back away though, doesn't try to create some distance between them. But then again, he's not even sure she's noticed his presence at this point. Her attention is too preoccupied with whatever it is that's brought them all here in the first place.

Tearing his eyes away from her, he focuses on what is obviously an image being projected from a satellite floating somewhere above the Earth. He's never been overly fond of human data screens — Gallifreyan technology is so much easier to understand — but in no time at all he's deciphered the grainy image.

"When did they appear?" he asks, pointing to the blips on the screen that represent some sort of space vessel. If this was displaying on the Tardis he'd be able to tell how long they'd been there, where they'd came from, and who, exactly, they are. But, as it stands, he's got to make do with the limited resources available to Torchwood and, therefor, him.

Pete shakes his head in frustration. "We're not sure exactly. Everyone's been kind of in celebration mode since we scared them off the last time." The Doctor raises his eyebrows at this. It's one thing to be relieved that you've saved your planet from certain destruction; it's another thing entirely to slack off in the first row of defense. "I know," he replies before the Doctor can say anything. "It's my fault, not theirs. It was a mistake, I realize that now. But Doctor, these people worked for seven days straight, many without sleep, just to find a way to fight these bastards off the first time."

He nods and, while waiting for Pete to continue, notices that a few more blips have shown up on the screen. Then, before his very eyes, there appears a few more and a few more after that. At first he doesn't think anyone else has seen them, they're all too busy focusing on the head of Torchwood, and then there's a sharp intake of air on his left and he turns to find Rose; staring at the multiplying ships, a look of fear crossing her features. He knows that look oh so well and doesn't even think about it — it's second nature to him after all — before reaching out a comforting hand to her.

The instant flesh meets cloth though he realizes his mistake.

And so does she.

Jerking away from his touch, Rose moves as quickly as she can through the throng, nearly colliding with a nearby filing cabinet in the process. He'd go after her, call out her name, anything to try and stop this whole strange situation that seems to be spiraling out of control at breakneck speed but he can't.

He can't move, not even to open his mouth. In the background he can hear Pete's voice, telling him something he's certain is important, but it's like he's in a dream; his mind reeling from the feel of her beneath his palm. Such a short amount of time but that's all it took to drown his senses in her again. She felt like coming home, like everything that makes you feel safe and secure, enveloped in love; your mothers cooking, your fathers cologne, the blanket you wrapped yourself in as a child when the monsters taunted you from beneath the bed.

That's not all he felt though and it takes his mind — his brilliant, fabulous mind — a few minutes to figure it out. But before he can name it, there's a commotion on his right and an arm shoots out across his shoulder, pointing to the all important monitor screen. "What's that?"

The Doctor watches as Pete leans down, studying the spot Jack just indicated. "I'm not sure. Never seen anything like that one before and it's certainly not one of ours."

That statement is all the Doctor needs to clear the fog from his mind. He raises an eyebrow; the Torchwood here has it's very own space ships? That's news to him but now is not the time or the place to worry overly much about this revelation (though it might come in handy later on). The direness of the situation did not diminish any during his momentary lapse in focus and there's more pressing matters to deal with then what's happening between him and Rose.

"Alright, well see if you can't get some line of communication open with them, whoever they are." He addresses Pete. "Worse case scenario, it's another alien looking to take over your tiny planet. Of course that might not be such a bad thing in the long run. The two of them fight it out for a bit and the victor moves on to you but with fewer numbers."

No one seems particularly impressed with his possibility and he begins to walk back towards the door. "If you're lucky though, it might just be an enemy of your enemy come to help eliminate them from the galaxy." He's reached the door by now and is just about to turn the knob to leave when Pete stops him.

"Doctor?"

"Don't worry, Pete. I'm not leaving you to your own devices…you've already proven what you lot can do with the resources you have," he keeps his tone neutral but it's definitely meant in a sarcastic way. "Just popping out quick to see what the Tardis can come up with."

"Hold on a tic," Jake speaks up. "There's something else you should see first." He turns to Pete whose face has suddenly turned white as a ghost. "Come on, boss, you need to show 'im."

There's a long pause while Pete considers the younger man's suggestion and the Doctor starts to feel a bit impatient. Before he can bring up the lack of any sort of time to think things through Pete sighs and gives a curt nod in agreement.

"Jake's right," he says reluctantly. "You need to know exactly what we're dealing with here, Doctor." Stepping up to what looks like a completely normal section of the wall he runs his hand over its smooth surface. After feeling around for a bit he finally finds what he's looking for and a panel opens up, revealing a security box, complete with keypad, retina and fingerprint scanner, and a speaker for voice recognition.

The Doctor can't help but wonder what it is they are keeping so tightly under lock and key.

OOO

She can't believe she let her guard down, can't believe she let him get that close. It was a huge mistake and one that may have just cost her a secret or two.

The defenses she had learned how to build — protection against contact with psychic races or those sensitive enough to detect her emotions — were strategically placed and well maintained. But, even still, when sufficiently distracted or surprised, they were easy enough to breach.

His brief touch, at the exact moment when realization dawned on her as to just who these beings were, was all it took to shatter her resolve, tear down a few of her walls. She won't deny that it felt good (because it did), can't ignore the memories and emotions it brought...

_Once upon a time she swore she'd never let go, never stop holding his hand...not never, ever. And he...he held her heart in his hands and yet, he never knew it, never knew how much she loved him._

_There was so much she never told him. She always thought there'd be more time..._

_Then, before either of them knew what was happening, they were caught up in that horrible chain of events, an integral part of thing they could not change. Despite all her promises of forever, she let go. It had never been her intention to but she simply hadn't been strong enough._

_And her world had suddenly turned upside down._

The pain of it, loving, and then losing him before their time, is so overwhelming she feels like she's going to be sick. Maybe it's not worth it, keeping these secrets, keeping herself from him. Maybe, just maybe, her judgment has been clouded by the fear of rejection...a fear that is quite possibly unfounded and just a tiny bit irrational.

When has he ever been anything but understanding and kind?

She knows now that she has to talk to him, has to apologize for the way she's been acting. She has to at least give him the chance. But, when she raises her head, eyes seeking his, she finds that the world hasn't stopped revolving just because of her. Life moved on while she sat, inactive, drowning in her own selfish thoughts.

The tight-knit crowd has dispersed and all eyes are on Pete, standing before a seemingly normal wall, an unhappy expression marring his features. She can't figure out what's so fascinating about the unblemished expanse of white plaster and paint. But then, before her very eyes, half the wall disappears and she's rising from her seat in shock and amazement.

She's never seen this hidden room before, never even heard rumors of its existence. Admittedly this was obviously very top-secret but in the little bit of time she worked at Torchwood her security clearance had risen quite rapidly to the highest possible; an accomplishment that had infuriated some of her team-mates to no end. It was difficult to ignore the sideways glances and whispers that it was only because she was the director's daughter but Rose knew better. She had earned each and every commendation that had been given to her, had worked just as hard as the rest of them, and had thought she'd earned Pete's respect and trust.

Obviously she'd been mistaken though if he had felt the need to keep something this important from her. Oh she wasn't mad at him — she was sure he had his reasons — but that didn't stop it from stinging just a little.

Jack turns and gives her a look of confusion but all she can do is shrug as she follows her dad and the Doctor into the hidden room. Like in Communications, the area is extremely clinical in appearance. Glaringly white walls and a grayish flooring — both bare of any sort of decoration — leave one feeling like they've just entered a morgue. There's a single desk facing the north wall, complete with computer and chair. And that's it.

She can't help but shudder as, once everyone has moved into the cramped space, the wall seemingly reappears behind them. Pete then punches a few keys on the keyboard and quickly moves to stand in front of the monitor before anyone can see as the display comes to life. "We've had it for about a week now, under the strictest of security. We didn't want to take the chance of it getting out but could not pass up the opportunity to study it further and…" his face is becoming flushed and he looks more then a little embarrassed. "Well, if nothing else, we figured we might be able to use it as leverage." At that he moves out of their way and a few gasps are heard throughout the room.

Standing on tiptoes Rose cranes her neck to see past the people standing in front of her. What she sees there is so jarring — so awful — that, with a quick intake of breath, she takes a step back and away from it. Before she can take another one strong arms grasp her shoulders, holding her both in place and upright.

It's not that the creature is all that horrible — she has, after all, seen some really awful things in her time — but there's just something about it. She doesn't even know what it is, can't even begin to describe it, but something about it scares her more then anything else she's ever faced. It probably doesn't help any that there's the unnerving feeling that, despite the fact that it's in another room altogether, it is looking right at her.

"It's alright," Jack murmurs in her ear and she realizes that her whole body is so tense it must feel to him like she's about to bolt.

She takes a deep shuddering breath and forces herself to look at the screen in front of her once more. Using a technique that she learned during her training at Torchwood, she manages to keep herself calm enough to regard the creature analytically.

Though she can't stand to admit it the alien is most definitely humanoid. Everything about it in fact follows the basic human form, with no extra appendages or missing parts. It has two arms and two legs, stands upright, has a head firmly attached to its shoulders, two eyes, a nose, and a mouth…and so on and so forth. If she's being completely honest, the few differences are so minor that one could easily mistake this creature as someone dressed up for Halloween.

His skin — she assumes it's a male though she's not sure why — is a sort of nauseatingly green color; kind of like a cross between pea soup and lichen. It really is quite an interesting combination when you throw in the white-as-snow hair that reaches well down his back and the funny looking goatee on his chin. Then there are the small gashes, one under each eye, that remind her distinctly of gills. They don't appear to move at all, not even when he's breathing, so she has to assume they have some other function.

So costume party, yeah?

It's his eyes that give him away, that reveal the truly terrifying thing he is inside. Just glance at them and you won't notice anything amiss but look deeply enough and you'll see it, the pure evil that resides within those orbs. There's obvious contempt there too, contempt for anything he feels is beneath him and his. It smacks too much of another alien species that seemed hell-bent on the destruction of every other race in the galaxy. But the Daleks couldn't hold a flame to this thing.

She's seen enough and is just about to say so when the Doctor speaks up. "I want to talk to him," his voice is so low she has to strain to hear it. There's a tone to it she's only heard a handful of times, a tone that betrays just how dangerous of a man this Time Lord is.

"I don't think that's a wise idea," Pete replies but his confidence has gone. This is why he was so reluctant to show us, Rose thinks to herself. He knows the Doctor isn't going to agree with chaining some alien being up just to study it. "These creatures are extremely dangerous and I seriously doubt even you would be safe in the same room as it."

"I said, I want to talk to him," the Doctor repeats and, though his voice hasn't gotten any louder, everyone jumps.

"Doc…" but before he finishes his argument Pete shakes his head in concession and walks over to the west wall, finding the same sort of security device there as he did in the room before this one. Though the protocol is the same it takes him a bit longer to complete it; the string of numbers is longer, both eyes and every finger needs to be scanned and the voice recognition software requires a larger number of words to be uttered before he's cleared. This time though, the wall stays in place and instead a door appears as if out of nowhere. Pete hesitates briefly then motions towards it.

"Just...just be careful, ok?"


	7. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer:** Doctor Who owns my soul, I own nothing.**  
Spoilers: **Through season three  
**Thanks To: **Snowfox3 for the beta

* * *

Somehow he's managing to keep his anger in check, but only just barely.

It's not that he doesn't understand the reasons why they've taken this prisoner, because he does. "Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer."

But, then again, "Do good to your friends to keep them, to your enemies to win them."

And there definitely isn't any good being done to this poor creature.

He can't imagine that they've had anything but the worst of intentions here. Certainly an attempt was made to communicate with the alien that's shackled to the wall. But when that didn't work, as he's sure it didn't? When it refused to talk, refused to help them find a non-violent way around this whole situation? He doubts they left it at that, doubts they provided even the most basic of accommodations…bloody hell, the proof is standing right in front of him!

Worse yet is the nagging fear that they haven't just taken a hostage but a guinea pig too; their own personal plaything they can try out all of their inhumane experiments on.

Taking a deep breath, both to calm himself and quiet the rage he can feel brewing in the pit of his stomach, he takes a tentative step forward. "It's alright," he begins, hands held loosely at his sides. "I'm not going to hurt you."

If he was expecting a response, he's found himself sorely disappointed. It simply stares at him, its face as impassive — as blank — as when he first entered the room. Though he had pegged this creature as an intelligent being, there's something about the vacant look in its eyes that has him thinking otherwise.

"I'm the Doctor," he continues as he takes another tentative step forward. He doesn't want to frighten this being but he needs to get closer to it. As much as he doesn't want to consider the possibility, he may have to connect with it's mind. Though Pete had said they established some form of communication with this race, this one could very well be just a drone — a worker class — and may not be able to express itself verbally.

Whatever the means, and despite his reluctance to go traipsing about in another's mind, he knows he may be the only thing standing between peace and all out war.

"My ah, my friends here have made a horrendous mistake and...I'm sorry, so very sorry." It may not even understand a word he's saying, but he has to keep trying. "You see these humans are so young, just toddlers in the universe, and they have yet to grasp the finer points of inter-galactic relations. I'm sure that…" Before he can finish — before he's made it more then halfway across the room — the creature suddenly throws back its head, a strange sound issuing from its throat.

He hesitates, left foot poised to take another step. It appears as though it's in some sort of pain — from what he's not sure of — but the Doctor is no fool and he's not about to go rushing headlong into what may very well be a trap. Studying the chains attached to its arms and legs, he notes that they are securely attached both to the wall and to their prisoner.

He's just about to ask if everything is alright when it finally dawns on him…the creature is laughing at him.

"Sorry, did I miss something?"

"No," it replies stifling a laugh, "I just…I find you quite amusing, Doctor." It's voice is strangely snake-like in tone. In it he finds the intelligence he had so desperately sought but, at the same time, something more sinister then he had expected.

"Ah, so you can talk. That's good, very good…and just as I expected too. Definitely figured you to be a sentient being." He moves in a little closer, then, when he's within touching distance, he holds out his hand in the universal signal for friendship and continues, "I'm the Doctor but I already said that didn't I? 'Course I did...and you are?"

_Rose watches in horror as he attempts to reason with the creature in the other room, the creature she is now certain must be a Wraith._

_She knows very little about their race but their name is cried out loud and clear throughout this universe, a warning to all who come in contact with them. They are not friendly the voices say, do not attempt to negotiate with them for they are blood thirsty and uncaring, taking what they want and leaving nothing but death and destruction in their wake._

_If only she had had the chance to tell him. But things had moved so quickly, so unexpectedly, that she barely had time to register what it was in the other room before he moved to stand by it's side as its protector; it's poor, unsuspecting ambassador._

_Relying on lip-reading alone — whether the sound on the monitor is just turned off or there isn't any she's not sure — doesn't get her too far but she knows him well enough to recognize when the Doctor is in diplomacy mode. Despite her knowledge of the creature and its kind she can't help but experience a twinge of hope that he's making some sort of headway; that maybe he can manage to stop this war with words instead of weapons._

_But she seriously doubts it._

"I have no name," the creature replies, voice now completely void of the mirth it once held. It eyes his hand curiously before deciding on ignoring it completely. "We Wraith have no need of such silly titles."

"Ah, so you're a Wraith! Good, good. It's good to have a…have a, well a name, I suppose, to go with the face." He says, pulling his hand back and rubbing nervously at the back of his neck.

"Yes, though it is not one we have chosen for ourselves but one that the denizens of the planets we feed upon have given us." It shifts, pulling back ever so slightly from him. "But what about you, Doctor? What is _your_ name?"

"Just the Doctor."

"But that is merely a title. Doctor. Used by one such as these to imply status. And you, you are not a human like the rest of these fools; similar and yet, at the same time, something else entirely." The Wraith finishes, leaning back against the wall, the embodiment of relaxation.

But, as a Time Lord, the Doctor isn't so easily fooled. Despite its act of nonchalance, he can sense the internal changes that mark this Wraith as one who is afraid. The increased heart-rate, the salty smell of sweat, the increase in hormones that indicate the activation of it's base fight or flight instinct.

_Her nerves are strung tighter then a properly tied Boy Scout knot and it isn't helping the way he's gotten himself right up close and personal with this life-sucking alien. But then again he's always been so sure of himself, so certain that he'll come out of a situation alive, that he never even considers the remote possibility that he might not. Of course, with the ability to regenerate into a new body instead of succumbing to death, who wouldn't take a few extra chances?_

_He's only got a few regenerations left though and she doesn't think she can handle watching him change his face again._

"Who and what I am doesn't matter," the Doctor replies, softening his voice as he closes the distance between them. "What does matter is how they've been treating you here. Have they harmed you in any way?"

It laughs again though it definitely sounds strained to him this time. "As if these apes could do anything to hurt us. They are tiny, puny little things that serve no greater purpose then as food supply to us!"

He flinches at the use of the title he so carelessly gave to Rose all those years ago but forges on, intent on getting through to this being. "Ah, yes and that would be the other reason I'm here. I had been hoping that there might be a way, any way at all, that we could come to some sort of a peaceful end to this whole nasty invasion business."

He takes another step closer.

_She's so alert to everything going on in the other room that she's aware of what's about to happen seconds before it does; not like it does her any good. Protocol dictated that Pete shut the door behind the Doctor, therefore barring the creature if it was to attempt an escape, resetting the security clearance in the process._

_With no way to get to him, no way to warn him, all she can do is scream his name._

The Wraith appears to think his proposition over for a bit before nodding its head slightly in agreement. "Yes, I think there might be a way but I don't know that you'd be agreeable to it."

_Watching in horror, she sees the scene play out before her agonizingly slow, as if someone's put the VCR on freeze frame. One second he's standing there so unsuspecting and the next his eyes have widened in surprise as he realizes things have taken a turn for the worse. Though the creature's arm moves ever so slowly, there's no time for him to turn away, no time for him to run. Then his face is screwed up in an expression of such intense pain that she rips her eyes away from the screen, unable to watch any longer._

_Luckily Pete is moving in normal time, going through the long and lengthy process required to open the doors once more. She knows he's going as fast as he can but she's screaming at him to hurry and then he's done and Jack is ripping the door open and rushing in, gun drawn._

OOO

He's through the door the instant Pete's got it unlocked. Behind him he can hear others following but he's unsure who and he frankly doesn't care. All he can think about is the fact that, that...that thing is slowly draining the life right out of his friend and he has to stop it

Being a man more of action than talk Jack finds himself a good vantage point where he's fairly certain he can get a clear shot at the creature and not harm the Doctor in the process. Aiming his gun, he doesn't think twice about what the consequences of this sort of an action might be. He knows this isn't the route the Time Lord would prefer, understands the man's aversion to guns and violence but he's not taking any chances here.

Without hesitation he fires, hitting the creature in the center of its forehead. For a brief moment it stands there stunned before crumpling to the floor, releasing its grip on the Doctor. Before he can hit the floor too, Pete's there, arms going under the his shoulders. Mickey grabs the other half of the lifeless man and they quickly drag him out of the room.

OOO

She doesn't even think about it, just rushes to his side the instant they lay him on the floor. Shoving Mickey and Pete out of her way she quickly kneels next to him and places her ear to first one side of his chest and then the other. Once she finds that both hearts appear to be beating normally she moves on, checking his breathing, reflexes, and pupils. Though she doesn't know a lot about Time Lord physiology she uses all of her Torchwood medical training to assess him as best she can.

When she's done and relatively sure he's fine, she leans back resting on the heels of her feet, relief washing over her. He doesn't stir but his breathing is even and he looks so peaceful it's almost as though he's merely sleeping. And for the briefest of moments it's as though nothing has changed. No Canary Wharf, no Bad Wolf Bay, no rash decisions that destroyed her life and the lives of others…for the tiniest fraction of a second it's just her and him again. The Doctor and his plus one.

Absent-absentmindedly brushing a stray lock out of his face, she isn't aware of the first signs of him rousing. She jumps when he twitches, shattering the dream that she's found herself in. Before her brain has the time to process what's happening, before she can even think to move away his eyes are opening and they're staring straight into hers. She can feel it as her heart skips a beat and she almost loses it right then and there and leans in to kiss him. But then the cloudiness clears and there's so much anger brewing in his dark orbs that everything comes rushing back to her and she stands quickly, almost tripping over her own two feet in an attempt to put some distance between them.

He turns his head away from her then and she's grateful. What she doesn't realize is that she's missed the hope that started to soften his features and the pain that quickly followed on its heels. He makes an obvious effort not to look in her direction again as he pulls himself into a standing position, swatting away Martha's attempts to help him.

"Have you gone off the deep end?" the recently licensed doctor asks, the shrill pitch of her voice bringing a slight smile to Roses' face. At least she knows, has seen with her own eyes, that he's definitely found someone who isn't afraid to stand up to him.

"I'm fine," he replies, the annoyance in his tone unmistakable. "Learned a great deal about them in the process and I think we can end this war amicably."

Rose raises her eyes to him with a start; he didn't just…did he? No, she must've misheard him, must've misunderstood what he said. Because there is no way, after what just happened to him, that he's still willing to be the peaceful diplomat with this alien and the rest of his despicable race. But then he's huddled in a circle with Pete and Jack and Mickey. And they're actually discussing it; his grand plan that'll save the lives of everyone on Earth and the lives of those called the Wraith.

"He must be nutters," she mumbles under her breath. It wasn't meant for his ears, or anyone else's either, but then again she didn't exactly whisper it did she?

He turns towards her slowly, his expression blank. "Excuse me?"

"I said, you must be nutters! If not then that…that thing did something to you other then DRAIN YOUR LIFE," she's yelling now and she knows she really ought not to. This isn't trying to make amends, this isn't trying to find her place by his side again.

"Would you prefer to just kill them all?"

She doesn't like the implication in his tone. "They can't be reasoned with!" What does he think she is, some kind of mass murderer? But, then again, is he really that far from the mark? Was it just a lucky guess or did he see something more when he touched her then she thought he had?

She doesn't want to fight with him, doesn't want to keep on hurting him and herself like she has been. But the intense fear of his rejection — his disdain over who she's become — is rearing it's ugly head again and any control she may have had — over herself and the situation — is slowly slipping away.

"Didn't you listen to anything Pete said? Weren't you paying any attention at all earlier on? Or where you too lost in your own thoughts to bother with us stupid apes?" She finds she actually wants to see him flinch when she says this, wants him to see that even he is capable of making horrible mistakes like the ones she has. But he doesn't and she gets that little bit angrier at him for it.

"I was listening but maybe I shouldn't have been," he takes a step towards her as she, at the same time, takes a step back. "Maybe I should have learned my lesson a long time ago and stopped. Listening. To. You. Stupid. Apes." Another step from each of them and it's as though they're executing a well-rehearsed dance. "All you seem to want to do is kill, kill, kill. Anything that doesn't look like you, anything you don't understand becomes fair game for you and your weapons."

She can feel the chair she was just sitting in pressed up against her bum and realizes that she can't back up any farther. Just a few more steps and he'll be nose-to-nose with her and she can't have that. The thought of being that close to him again is making her legs shake with both fear and desire. If she's not careful she'll end up letting him get too close and then everything, all the dark secrets she's carried in her heart for so long, will be laid bare for his taking. Lucky for her, she knows how to make him stop dead in his tracks, knows just what to say to have him running in the other direction…away from her.

"If we're that bad, that much of a threat to the universe," she snarls as viciously as she can, "Then why don't you jus' destroy us like you destroyed your own people!"


	8. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer:** Doctor Who owns my soul, I own nothing.**  
Spoilers: **Through season three  
**Thanks To: **Snowfox3 for the beta

* * *

"_If we're that bad, that much of a threat to the universe," she snarls as viciously as she can, "Then why don't you jus' destroy us like you destroyed your own people!"_

Those words — angry, hurtful words — resonate in her soul. Words that she cannot take back, no matter how many stars she may wish upon. Words that, even though she didn't mean them, she knows will forever change the way he feels about her.

OOO

A hush falls over the room.

He can feel their eyes burning a hole in his back, hear their hearts beating in double time, taste their fear in the air…

He knows he should be shocked but he's not; two days ago he would have but not now, not anymore. The girl that was ripped from his side so long ago is no more; a hardened soul left in her place. His memories of her — kind and caring beyond anything he ever would've dared to imagine — have been tainted and he's left now with this stranger standing in front of him.

"You've changed Rose," he says and means it. How could this be the same person who once sympathized with a lonely Dalek, once stayed his hand from harming it — more so because it almost took her from him then for any other reason — and felt pity for its plight? How could she have changed so much in so little time, strayed so far from the beautiful, wonderful person he once knew?

He doesn't know and, now more then ever, he isn't willing to stick around to find out.

OOO

"Mr. Tyler?" the intercom squeals to life. "Mr. Tyler, sir, I'm sorry to bother you but we've got multiple targets on the ground. There's a dozen…no, wait…two dozen ships. We're surrounded sir!" There's a pause and the occupants of the tiny room can just barely make out the sounds of a panicked news report, then the oh-so-familiar drone of the emergency broadcast signal.

Another pause and the still unidentified voice continues, "Oh my God, sir. It's the United States…we've lost all contact with them. We think… Visual contact can't be confirmed but we think they may have been destroyed."

The uncomfortable silence now broken everyone springs into action, shifting towards the doorway. There's an uncertainty though as they glance one after another at the pair standing so very close together, still seemingly frozen in time.

OOO

She feels as though she's in a dream. A horrible, terrifying dream from which there's no escape. Which, she supposes, she is. Because, no matter what happens, she knows she will never, ever escape the brutal truth of what she just did.

She can barely register what's going on around her. It's taking every last bit of concentration she has just to maintain this ridiculous staring contest they're locked in; a battle of wills between the two most stubborn people she knows. But, though she may not have heard the cries of dismay at the recent turn of events, he has.

Shaking his head in obvious disgust he turns away from her, following the rest of the group that is swiftly exiting the room. Pausing just inside the doorway, his voice is devoid of all feeling and so quiet she has to strain to hear it. "I don't know you anymore…and maybe I never did."

Then he's gone.

Blinking once, twice she tries to regain some semblance of composure, refusing to allow the tears lingering at the edge of her vision to fall. She doesn't deserve the comfort of a good cry, not after what she's done, and there's no one to blame but herself. This is exactly what she wanted from the beginning, pushing him as far away from her as she possibly could…

She hears the commotion going on in the next room and knows that she really should join them, should find out what's going on and what, if anything, she can do to help. But she can't. It's hard enough right now just to remain upright and not fall to the floor in a heap. Her body is shaking so hard that she's surprised it hasn't given out on her completely yet.

"Rose?" The voice is quiet, subdued, but she starts a little anyway. She thought she was the only one still here; thought that she had been left as alone as she feels inside.

Looking up she finds a very concerned Mickey looking at her from across the room. "'M alright," she says, sounding far calmer then she is. "Jus'…I need a minute. Be out in a tic, kay?"

He nods reluctantly and with very little conviction. But her request is honored and once he's gone too and she's well and truly alone, she lets out a breath she wasn't even aware she'd been holding. She needs to get a grip on herself and fast. There's far more important things right now then her own personal little soap opera and she's more then a little ashamed she's let it go on this long.

Shaking it off, she vows to herself that she will not let her emotions take control until this whole mess is sorted, then heads quickly out of the room and right into the thick of things.

OOO

"I appreciate your effort Doctor, I really do, but I think it's a little late for diplomacy don't you?"

He had hoped for a better response then this, had hoped that at least one of them would've seen the value of his plan. But from the looks of their faces they don't. Not even Jack seems impressed and, from the way he keeps shifting his weight from one foot to the other, the Doctor can tell he feels uncomfortable about that fact. Well, they can all just sod off then. He came here to help and if they can't even entertain the idea that this war could potentially end without the bloodshed so typical of their race then there's no point in him staying any longer.

"So be it," he says simply, then strides over to the doorway, fully intending to leave them to their own devices. But Jack's standing in front of him, blocking his exit.

"You can't do this, Doc."

"Yes, I can Jack, and I will. I am not about to be witness to the atrocities that you apes seem to be more then willing to commit." He whirls around to face the rest of the room anger apparent in his voice, "You lot never learn do you? You just…you never learn."

They can't even look him in the eyes much less construct a reasonable response. Not like he expected them to but still. It's so sad and pathetic the way they continually ignore their failings as sentient beings; never willing to change, never willing to even accept the possibility that they may be wrong. What he ever saw in them over the years he'll never know.

He's just about to remove Jack — forcefully if necessary — from his path when one brave soul, one bright light in a sea of darkness, steps forward. "It seems to me," she begins, "that it couldn't hurt any if you just gave his plan a try."

She's hesitant and unsure of herself but Gwen Cooper isn't about to let that stop her and he can't help but smile just a little bit because of her.

"Have you or haven't you seen what's outside?" Mickey asks voice filled with disdain.

"I have, and I know just as well as you do what's at stake here. See, this might not even be my universe but I've dealt with threats back home that could've just as easily destroyed mine as well. And every time, every single time someone, human or not, has to die in order to save our world I feel like I've failed at my job." He watches as she slowly walks in a complete circle around the room, her confidence growing with each step, each sentence.

"I used to be like everyone else. Get up, go to work, meet my mates for a pint, maybe manage a quick shag before bed, then do it all over again. I know now there's so much more out there and we are nothing, nothing compared to the rest of the universe. And he's right ya know," she jerks her thumb in his direction. "We're all so full of ourselves, so focused on our own petty little lives, that we think we know what's best and ain't no one gonna tell us otherwise." She stops her pacing and shakes her head, "We don't even stop to think about the consequences of our actions."

He takes a quick peek around the room and finds it not surprising in the least that all eyes are on her. This is greatness, this is exactly the reason why he keeps coming back to them…this is one of the reasons he fell in love with Rose...

She's watching Gwen too, her expression blank, her body language muted.

"I don't even want to think about what all those other races, all those alien beings we haven't even met yet, think about us. Because even though we're not, us humans we act like we're the center of the universe. It begins and ends with us, doesn't it?" Her voice becomes accusing. "Well, I'm sorry to say but it really doesn't and now that we've taken those first few steps out into space we need to start thinking about that."

She's exhausted herself, allowed her anger to get the best of her and now she's drained. There's so much more she could've said, he can see it in her eyes, but her spirited lecture has left her without the energy to go on. It was passionate and perfect and he can't forget to ask her if she's ever longed to travel to the stars.

"Alright, Doctor," Pete says with a slight nod. "You've got an hour. Let's see if you can perform a miracle. Oh, and Gwen?" The brunette turns to him. "What ever Jack's paying you, I'll double it!"

OOO

"I jus' don't understand why it has to be me," she says in a voice verging on whining.

"I've gone over this with you already, luv. Only a handful of people know the code to that particular hanger and everyone else is otherwise occupied right now."

"So why can't you jus'…I don't know…give someone else here the security clearance?"

Pete pauses in the middle of loading the gun he wants her to take with for protection and gives her a perfect 'I'm trying to be patient with you' look. "You know we don't have the time for that. As we speak the Wraith are practically knocking down our front door."

"Which is why I wanna stay here, help you fend them off." It's a lie and she knows that he knows it.

He lets out a sigh before continuing with the task at hand. "Look, I realize the two of you must've had quite a row before you got here, but it can't be that bad." The pistol is fully loaded now and he places it on the table, picking up the next in line.

" 's not about that. I--"

Before she can finish her sentence, he slams his fist on the table so hard it re vibrates throughout the room. "Stop lying to me Rose! I know I haven't been your dad for very long but I had thought we'd gotten to the point where we trusted each other." She's never seen him like this, never even heard him raise his voice before, and, as frightening as it is, it's also eye-opening. "I don't know what your problem is but I'm sick of watching you wallow in self-pity and lash out at the one person who would...no, the one person who has, gone to the ends of the universe for you."

Shame burns her cheeks and she turns away from him. "You're right and there's no excuse for it. I jus'...I don't think I can face him right now."

" 'n I understand that but you're going to have to find a way to cope." And, as he shoves her weaponry across the table, she knows the conversation is as good as done. "Just make sure you get it all sorted before you get back. Because if you don't I may just take you over my knee, parallel dad or not."

And with that, he walks out the door, leaving her alone with her thoughts once more.


	9. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer:** Doctor Who owns my soul, I own nothing.**  
Spoilers: **Through season three  
**Thanks To: **Snowfox3 and Sinecure for the beta

* * *

It may be early afternoon, only midway through the work week, but the streets of London are empty. Not a single soul is brave or dumb enough to leave the sanctity of their homes. Of course every city, every town, every small village across the face of the Earth is under house arrest right now. Not like there's anyone--police or military--out to enforce the law; they're all too busy with the enemy to worry about a few civilians not staying put.

Jack notices the surprisingly little resistance as they make their way across the tarmac and into the small cluster of trees kitty-corner to the Torchwood offices. The few Wraith units they manage to stumble into are small enough, and so intent on their current orders, that evading their detection doesn't require too much effort. It's a good thing too, Jack thinks as he watches Rose closely; the poor girl is so wound up right now he's afraid that, at the slightest provocation, she might just start shooting that awfully large gun she's carrying. Not that he minds a woman who can wield a weapon, but he's certain that sort of a scene would do nothing to ease the current tension.

They haven't said a word to each other since the minor altercation with the prisoner. Of course, minor doesn't really begin to cover it, but he has no urge to think too much about just how out of control the whole damn situation had gotten. The Wraith bit he can understand, saw it coming even (of course, who didn't?). But the scene between Rose and the Doctor? He knew that it wasn't going to be easy, coming here with the two of them, but if he had any clue that it was going to get that bad, he never would've allowed her on the TARDIS in the first place. There's no use dwelling though, what's done is done and there are more important things to worry about.

Maybe, after all is said and done, he can get the two of them to sit down and talk. Get Rose to finally see what a huge mistake she's making in not trusting the Doctor. If not, he may just have to help things along a little. Not that he's about to go revealing her secrets — he did promise after all, and Jack Harkness is a man of his word — but there has to be something he can do. Some way he can help the two of them start the healing process.

They're only a few feet into the tree line when Rose pauses, holding up her hand for them to stop. A few months ago he would've rushed to her side, looking for any signs of trouble, but now? Well, after seeing the new, much more experienced Rose in action, he trusts her instincts as much as his own. So he waits, watching as she looks first one way and then the other, her body tense for the slightest sound, the smallest thing out of place. A minute or two later she nods in satisfaction and continues on through the dense woods.

A little bit later he can see the outline of a large building looming up in front of them. This must be the storage hangar Pete had told them about. Inside is the alien ship that they are hoping is fully functional. In the six months Torchwood has had it in their possession however, they've been unable to get it off the ground despite numerous attempts to do so.

Surprisingly, when Jack pointed out that he could fly anything and suggested they use the unknown vessel instead of the TARDIS to reach the Wraith fleet, the Doctor made no objections. Of course he hadn't exactly been happy about having company on this mission but Pete pretty much insisted, saying he wouldn't even think about allowing it if the Doctor went alone.

Moving quickly across the open space between the trees and the building, they manage to reach the door and get inside without incident. He's just about to breathe a sigh of relief when a noise from within the compound alerts him to the fact that their luck has finally worn off.

OOO

There are only three of them, few enough to subdue without bloodshed. She's not taking any chances though and they can't risk the rest of the fleet finding out what they're up to. So she does what she's been trained to do and, after a quick assessment of the situation, aims the gun she's carrying and fires.

During Torchwood's mandated six-week training period for all new recruits it was discovered she had a knack for using weapons of all sorts. It wasn't something she was happy about initially; the Doctor had, after all, instilled in her an intense dislike of violence. But it didn't take long before she came to the realization that not all situations she ran into as a field operative were going to be as easy to defuse with words. By the time she managed to cross the void she was one of the best sharp-shooters in this universe and had earned herself multiple job offers from presitigous organizations around the world.

The Wraith doesn't even know what hits them.

Before she can lower her weapon, someone's grabbed ahold of her arm and she's being whipped around to face a very angry Doctor. "What did you do that for?"

"I thought--"

"Yeah, and _that_, right there, is the problem," he snorts, dropping her arm and moving quickly to the bodies now littering the floor. He checks each of them individually for any signs of life, but there is none. She doesn't need to see his reactions to know she hit her mark.

She cannot feel shame over her actions though, does not doubt for a second that she did the right thing. Even if he isn't willing or able to accept it yet, she knows the Wraith are not about to have a diplomatic sit-down over a cuppa.

"You didn't have to kill them." There's real, genuine pain in his voice. And, for that, she feels regret.

Pete is right. She's been so busy being selfish and feeling sorry for herself that she's hurt the one person in the universe who would've done anything for her. Not anymore though, not after what she's done...what she's said.

But that's fine. She's accepted the fact that he will never again see her the way he once did, will probably never even want to be around her anymore. And that's fine too. She just wants to make sure they make it out of this situation alive and then she'll watch him leave...after she makes her apologies.

Because, at the very least, she owes him that.

"What else were we supposed to do?" she asks quietly, subdued.

"We could have at least attempted to reason with them."

"So they could've alerted the others to what we're doing? You said it yourself, Doctor, they're a highly telepathic race. Would you prefer they swarmed the place before Jack even has a chance to figure out how to get the two of you off the ground?"

She can tell he wants to say something more, that he's already formulated a scathing retort, something that will surely put her in her place. Apparently she's not the only one who's changed, though, and he keeps his mouth firmly shut, eyes focused on Jack as he searches for a way into the ship.

With a sigh she turns away from the two of them, heading back the way they've come. The area is clear and she can head back to Torchwood now. She's done what she's promised she to do: Gotten them to the hangar safely. Her services are no longer needed here. Before she can make it back to the door though, her mobile starts to vibrate and she pulls it out of her pocket, putting it on speaker.

"Rose, where are you?" Pete asks and he sounds worried.

"We're inside the hangar. Jack's working on getting the ship operational and 'm about to head back."

There's a short pause then, "I wouldn't do that if I were you, luv. I'm afraid your position's been compromised.

"And just what did you think would happen, severing their telepathic link to the hive like that?" the Doctor asks, his voice empty of all emotion. "Did you actually think that wouldn't have them swarming the place?"

She tries to ignore him as she stares out the window at the mass of Wraith quickly making their way through the trees. There's so many of them, too many for her to take on alone. A quick glance over her shoulder confirms that Jack has managed to open the door to her only escape.

With a sigh she leaves her post, dragging her feet as she crosses the room to the ship. She has no desire to go on this mission — her expertise would be put to better use back at Torchwood — but there's nowhere else to run, nowhere to hide.

OOO

"So what's the plan then?"

It's just the two of them, Jack and the Doctor. The second he managed to get the strange alien craft off the ground Rose had gone off in search of a weapons locker, or at least that was her cover story. Both of them know, however, that anything stored on the ship when Torchwood acquired it had been removed months ago to study its usefulness.

"It's complicated," is all the response he gets.

Setting 'cruise control,' Jack pushes his chair away from the console and swivels to face the Time Lord sitting next to him. "I don't have to land this thing if I don't want to," he replies, folding his arms across his chest like a petulant child.

The Doctor lets out a sigh, making a sound like a rapidly deflating balloon in the process. "Look, Jack, I don't even know if this is going to work. And if it does..." he pauses, rubbing the back of his neck nervously.

"If it does?"

"I won't be coming back with you and Rose."

Jack raises a questioning eyebrow at the statement. He has the feeling that, whatever this grand master scheme is, he probably isn't going to like it.

"What do you mean, not coming back with us?" he asks cautiously.

"Jack, you...Pete...no one here has a clue as to just how powerful these creatures are. How large their numbers." He turns away, staring out the window at the rapidly darkening sky. The ship is thousands of feet above the ground and it won't be long now 'till they reach the hive ship orbiting the Earth. "There's no way to fight them off, no way to avoid this invasion. Not unless fifty percent of the population is going to willingly hand over their own lives."

Jack shakes his head. "I can't see that happening."

"Nor can I, which is why this is the only way."

He doesn't much like the idea of leaving his friend alone and at the mercy of the Wraith, but the alternative isn't much better. "Alright then, Doc, what exactly is your plan?"

OOO

The hive ship, Rose finds, is not as foul on the inside as the name makes it sound...it's worse. The whole place appears to be made, not out of metal, as one would assume, but something else entirely; something not so very different from human flesh.

Staring at the wall in front of her, she can't help but reach out a tentative hand to touch it. There's a certain fascination along with disgust and it reminds her of how people slow down to gawk at the horrific car accident along the side of the road. It's something entirely inappropriate, and yet, so very human.

"Organic material," Jack murmurs in her ear, stopping her, fingers mere inches from making contact. _Organic material!_ She understands enough to know that she doesn't want to know more.

Letting her arm drop to her side, she turns and follows the men in front of her. Down first one hallway and then another, they traverse, slowly making their way into the belly of the ship. How either Jack or the Doctor know where they are going she's not sure; every room looks the same as the last, the lighting so dim it casts shadows across the walls. And yet, they continue on without pause, as if...as if they have been here before or are somehow being guided.

For that matter, why does the place appear to be empty? Doing a quick three-sixty she confirms what she already suspected; they appear to be completely alone. Isn't that a little odd? Shouldn't there be at least a small number of those creatures left defending the place?

She's just about to say something to her companions when they suddenly come to a stop. Lost in thought for the last few minutes she hadn't noticed that they had entered a large, cavernous room. In the middle, standing behind what looks to be a control center of some sort, is a lone Wraith.

Resting her hand on the butt of the gun she has strapped to her waist, she waits. No one has informed her of exactly what the plan is and, despite her desire to decimate the whole fleet, she's not about to make a move without clear instructions. She may have taken out the three in the hangar without asking for opinions on the matter but that...well, that hadn't exactly turn out like she had planned.

For a few brief moments nothing happens. The three males just stand there staring at each other and she really hopes this isn't going to turn into a testosterone thing. Then, without warning, the Doctor begins to move forward, decreasing the distance between himself and the Wraith until mere feet separate the two. She's about to follow when she feels Jack's hand resting on her arm. Silently he shakes his head and indicates for her to remain quiet.

She doesn't like this one bit, but she wasn't even supposed to come along on this mission, and therefore, is completely out of the loop. There was plenty of time en-route for her to catch up on any important bits of information she needed to know but she chose to spend that time pouting and avoiding the Doctor. She's got no one but herself to blame for being in the dark, so she remains where she is and waits.

OOO

_"You are the one they call the Doctor?"_ Its voice is as snake-like in his head as it is out loud.

He nods his head in affirmation. It was his choice to open his mind to this creature, to avoid discussing what will surely anger Rose if spoken out loud. Though he's no longer certain if she wouldn't throw him to the wolves if it would save Earth. He'd like to think she wouldn't, but he cannot take any chances here. One wrong move and his plan will fail, and the human race will be killed before his crew of three can even make it back to the ship they came here in.

_"You have come to give yourself to us, in exchange for the lives of the humans?"_

Again he responds with a nod.

_"And why should we choose you, a single Doctor, over the millions of lives on this planet?"_

He pauses for a moment, considers his choice of words, before answering. _"I'm a Time Lord; I don't die. If you injure me beyond repair I'll regenerate into a new body."_ He looks shrewdly at the Wraith before him, raising an eyebrow, challenging him. _"Think about it, you could drain me of life again and again, and I will not die."_

_"But even you will not live forever. Three regenerations are all that are left to you and what happens then? You will become as fragile, as easily killed, as the humans you try so desperately to protect."_

His eyes widen in surprise.

The Wraith hisses out laughter that is no less unnerving than the last time he heard it, in the cell. _"Yes, Doctor, I can read your mind. Even those places you try to keep hidden from me. Though there are still a few memories...not to worry though, I'll have time enough to shatter even your most well-placed defenses."_

_"So you are accepting my offer then?"_ he asks, ignoring his growing unease.

_"Yes. Despite the fact that you will eventually die, the vastness of your mind alone will please my queen."_

Nodding in acceptance one more time, he turns to walk back to Jack and Rose. The Captain has been given his instructions, he just needs the agreed upon indication that everything is going to plan.

_"Oh, and, Doctor."_

He pauses and glances back at his jailer.

_"The yellow and pink one is most displeased."_ It nods its head in Rose's direction. _"Do make sure she does not cause me any problems or our agreement will be off."_

OOO

"Jack, take Rose and head back to the ship," he says, avoiding eye contact with her. "I'll be along in a minute or two" His voice is low, full of resignation and…regret? She doesn't think she's ever heard him sound quite so defeated before and it's starting to scare her.

The strange look that passes between him and Jack isn't lost on her, and suddenly, the feeling that something isn't right here becomes so strong she can almost taste it. "Doctor..." she says, but he's turning from her before she can finish. The realization that everything has gone wrong—horribly, horribly wrong—is so strong, she feels as though she may be sick.

Reaching out, she tries to grab him and whip him around to face her, to answer her questions, but she can't because Jack's right behind her, one arm firmly entrenched around her waist. Twisting and turning she tries to break free but he's too strong for her and she knows who's going to win. "Le' me go, Jack," she bites out through clenched teeth but it's no use, his grip refuses to loosen.

She watches in horror as the Doctor comes to a stop directly in front of the Wraith. Why they're even trying to convince her that this is anything but a surrender is beyond her. Everything screams of it, from the submissive way in which he's standing there to the disgusting triumphant grin on the Wraith's face. Then Jack begins to tug on her arm, trying to pull her back into the hallway that'll lead them to their ship.

She wants to fight him off, wants to demand that they tell her what's going on right now but she can't seem to find the words. Then suddenly something's covering her mouth and nose and before she can reach for it, before she can yank it away from her face, everything goes dark.


	10. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer:** Doctor Who owns my soul, I own nothing.**  
Spoilers: **Through season three  
**Thanks To: **Snowfox3 and Sinecure for the beta

* * *

The first time she regains consciousness, it's only for the briefest of moments.

There's a dense fog encompassing her mind, obscuring the memories of the last few hours--days?--she's not sure which. With exaggerated slowness, her eyelids flutter open then shut again, so fast that she doesn't have time to register the room around her. It's too much work to try again and she lets a sigh of exhaustion escape her parted lips before succumbing to the sanctity of sleep once more.

OOO

"How is she?" Jack asks.

Closing the door behind her, Martha takes him by the hand and leads him down the hall. It's not until they are well out of earshot of her patient that she responds and, even then, she keeps her voice low. "She's still unconscious. Vitals are good though, so she'll come around soon enough."

The look on his face is enough to make her heart ache in sympathy. The poor man hasn't left this floor since they brought Rose here after the battle ended. It's been a whole day--twenty four hours--of no change in her condition and, yet, he still continues to pace just outside her room, waiting.

"Why don't you get some rest, Jack? I'll keep an eye on her for you." He starts to shake his head, but before he can protest Martha gently places a finger against his lips. "Jackie has a room all ready and I'll ring you at the first sign of change. Promise."

It's a testament to just how exhausted he is when he doesn't argue but gives her hand a thankful squeeze and heads off towards the guest quarters. Breathing a sigh of relief, Martha returns to her post to continue her vigil outside the bedroom of pink and lace.

OOO

Hours later, or maybe it's mere minutes--there's no way to tell--she's ripped from the peaceful solitude of sleep once more. With a start, she sits bolt upright in bed, causing a wave of dizziness to wash over her body, leaving her shaky and nauseous. She quickly closes her eyes against the spinning room and takes a few deep breaths in an attempt to regain some semblance of calm.

In time to the tempo of the blood flowing through her veins, her head pounds with a headache to end all headaches, making it difficult to think straight. She raises a hand to her temple and rubs it gently, trying to remember anything that may help clear the fog in her mind. All she can dredge up from her subconscious, though, are fleeting images and emotions.

She clearly remembers the Doctor, remembers their time together and the intense love she feels for him. Beyond that, however, everything is blank. She knows there's more, so much more, but no matter how hard she tries those memories continually evade her.

Slowly and with utmost care, she lies back down, trying not to upset her still-queasy stomach. Something soft and fluffy embraces her, cradling her head in it's warmth and she realizes, with a wry smile, that someone has placed a multitude of pillows around her.

This has to be the strangest place the Doctor has ever got her imprisoned in.

The sudden sound of nearby footsteps brings her back to the cold, harsh reality of her current situation. They've been in some pretty sticky spots before, and this isn't the first time she's been left to her own devices, but never before did she have only a few fragmented memories to work with. Exactly who's holding her hostage and what they want from her--from the Doctor--is as much a mystery as how she got here in the first place.

Whoever, _whatever_, it is pauses just outside the door. Holding perfectly still she waits; her body tense to every noise, every movement. Even still she doesn't notice that there's more than one of them until she hears the voices. Low, whispering voices, that are just quiet enough she can't make out what they're saying. They sound vaguely human but she knows that doesn't mean a thing, as it's probably just the TARDIS translating for her.

After what feels like forever, but is probably only a few minutes, the voices begin to fade, moving slowly away from her immediate proximity. Letting out the breath she didn't even realize she'd been holding, she turns in the direction the voices came from. There's a tiny bit of light spilling out from under the door, not enough to see much by but comforting none-the-less.

Certain they've left, or as certain as she can be, she turns her attention to the room that's serving as her prison. It's still hard to see but her eyes have adjusted somewhat to the darkness that surrounds her. There are a few shadowy shapes spread out here and there that she thinks must be furniture. To her right is what appears to be a heavily curtained window . . . or possibly an escape route.

Rising slowly, so as not to make the lingering pain in her head any worse, she tries to figure out what to do next. She needs to remember where she is and what's happened. Barring that, she, at the very least, needs to find a way to escape. Despite the obvious lack of memories she's certain of one thing; she has to find the Doctor _now_.

Climbing out of bed, she figures the window is her best shot, and she's just about to test that theory when the door opens again, filling the room with white light. Senses alert, she doesn't even give a second thought to what might be coming through the doorway, just prepares herself for a fight.

OOO

At first, he thinks he must be dreaming, but Jack rarely sleeps and never dreams. By the time he's figured out where the commotion is coming from and sprinted the seemingly half-a-mile distance from his room to hers, things appear to have quieted down a bit. Rushing into the room he finds half the household already present, milling about in a mass of bodies, and making it impossible for him to get to Rose. He can hear her sobs however and wastes no time in shoving random people aside until finally there's a clear path to her side.

She's sitting on the edge of the bed, head buried in her hands. Martha is on her left, talking in a low, soothing voice; whispering words of comfort. On Rose's right is Jackie, her arm around her daughter's shoulders, with Pete standing next to her watching with a look of helplessness on his face.

Jack glances around him, noticing that not only is his team standing around, staring inappropriately at the scene unfolding before them, but so is some of the household staff. He's not sure exactly what's happened but this is no time for gawkers and so he quickly ushers the lot of them out of the room, closing the door behind him.

When he turns around Rose is peeking over her shoulder at him. Her face is a mess but she manages a weak smile. "Sorry, Jack. Did I wake you too?"

He shakes his head, returning the smile, and then looks to Martha, "What happened?"

Giving Rose a quick pat on the hand she stands and walks over to him. "She woke up confused." She's talking quietly so Rose can't hear. "She kind of freaked out thinking I was an alien." Martha leads Jack a little farther from the bed and lowers her voice even more. "Jack, she didn't remember anything...Canary Wharf, the Wraith, none of it. She thought she was in prison, that she and the Doctor had been captured."

He nods at this. It doesn't surprise him at all.

"She was out of control, on the Wraith ship. I had to--I had to do something to get us out of there as quickly as possible but I accidentally..." He shifts his gaze away from hers, ashamed of himself and the heat-of-the-moment mistake that he shouldn't have made. "The Retcon in this universe is a highly effective sedative, commonly used during surgery. But everyone has a different sensitivity to the compound and if you don't get the dosage just right...well, memory loss and confusion are common side effects."

She doesn't say anything, just squeezes his arm in sympathy.

"What about…" he trails off, glancing back in Rose's direction. She seems to be doing fine now, sitting there chatting calmly with her parents.

"She doesn't know yet."

"Right," he smiles reassuringly at Martha. "Get Jackie and Pete out of here and I'll take care of it."

OOO

She remembers everything now, or at least she thinks she does. No matter how much she tries to reassure herself that everything is fine, she can't shake the feeling that there's something she's still missing. Some small piece of her memories that has a big, gaping hole in its place.

The way the rest of them are acting isn't helping things either. It's like they know. Whatever it is she's forgotten, they know and are refusing to tell her. She can see it in their eyes; that look of sympathy, of feeling sorry for her, that she's always hated. But this? This is worse because she doesn't even know what it is that's making them look at her that way.

When Martha asks her parents to step out for a little bit, to let her rest, it only confirms her suspicions. Why, exactly, does she need more rest when she's already been sleeping for over a day? And why do they have to leave, but not Jack?

He's standing by the window looking out at the stars. It's the night after the battle ended and the world is safe once more. The problem is, she doesn't remember what happened, what miracle occurred that the Wraith are now completely gone from this galaxy. She imagines the Doctor had something to do with it but she doesn't want to think about him so she doesn't ask. She's just grateful that he did it.

Jack turns to her, his face hidden in the shadows. "Rose, there's something I have to tell you," his voice is carefully neutral and she wonders what he has to say that could possibly be that bad.

She nods for him to continue, and after a few seconds he does. "You know that the battle with the Wraith went well, that we won. Do you know how though?"

Sighing, she stands and joins him in the moonlight. "Does it really matter, Jack? We're all safe and that's what's important. The hows and whys of it aren't."

"That's the thing though, Rose, we're not all safe." He moves closer and his face is no longer veiled in darkness. She gasps, not just at his statement but at the haunting pain and sadness she sees in his eyes.

Racking her brain she tries to recall who she knows is safe. Her mum and Pete, they're the most important and at least she knows for certain they're alive. Jack, Martha, the rest of team Torchwood; all accounted for. Mickey…she hasn't seen Mickey yet, has she? Her head's spinning again making it difficult to focus.

"Rose?"

What about Jake? She can't recall if she's seen him yet either.

"Rose!"

Oh God, please don't say something has happened to Mickey or Jake. She doesn't know what she'd do without either of them. Her best mates, they are, and now they might be dead!

"Rose!" Jack shouts, shaking her.

Her eyes are focused on him but her vision is blurring as tears begin to well up in them. "Mickey? Jake?" she asks, her voice a whisper.

"They're fine, hon," he tells her then takes a deep breath. "Rose, I need you to listen carefully, okay?"

She just stares at him, unable to say anything at all, unable to indicate to him in any way that she's heard him. That she understands. Everyone who's important to her--everyone on her list--survived the war, yet he's continuing with his insistence that they aren't all safe. It doesn't make any sense!

"Rose," he continues, holding her hands tightly, firmly, as though grounding her to one place.

_He thinks I'm going to run_, she thinks to herself in amazement. It can 't possibly be that bad…they're all safe. There's no one left to worry about, no one....

"Rose, sweetheart…it's the Doctor."

OOO

It's not surprising they want his mind more than his life. He understood this when he gave himself to them, knew that it was his one assurance his proposal would be accepted. But he's not prepared for how quickly they want to cash in on their investment.

They have barely left Earth's orbit when the guards show up at his cell. He's willing–cooperative--and yet, still, they drag him roughly through the door and down the hall. But it doesn't hurt, not nearly as bad as what comes next.

The higher class Wraith, it seems, aren't as limited in their telepathic abilities as most. The instant he steps inside the control room, his mind is invaded. It's brutal and violent and now, more then ever, the act reminds him of rape.

They don't find what they want though. No, despite the fact that his defenses are laid bare, they learn nothing of the universe. No grand, cosmic knowledge. No secret coordinates to powerful weapons. No details on how to bridge the gap between this world and the next.

They do, however, learn everything they could possibly want to know about what is first and foremost in his thoughts...

_Rose._

Everything, from the first time he met her to the last time he saw her flows freely from his mind to theirs. Her hair, her eyes, her smile. The way she smells and the way she walks. How her laughter sounds to his ears and how she snores ever so softly when asleep. Every single thing he has ever cataloged as Rose, becomes part of their shared consciousness. They now know her as intimately as he does.

But beyond that, beyond the little bits and pieces that make up Rose Tyler, they learn of this: his intense, eternal love for her.

OOO

_Rose, he's gone._

She tries to block the words, tries to hide from them before they can become a part of her reality. Jack can't mean it, can't possibly believe that something happened to the Doctor. She won't let him!

He's here, somewhere, she's sure of it. Lurking around, avoiding the domestics. Probably hiding away in the TARDIS 'til it's time to leave, time to run off on another adventure. But he is not, under any circumstances, gone.

If she could just find him. If she could just escape from Jack's overpowering gaze and get out of this room...

She isn't even aware of what she's doing before it's too late. It's not like she's ever done this before, not like she even knew she could. With one thought, sent out like a wish, she finds him. The Doctor. And he's alive, she's certain of that now. She can feel his chest rise and fall with each breath, hear his double heartbeat in her ears. He's alive!

And then, suddenly, she's inundated his thoughts and feelings. She's drowning in a sea of emotions and she doesn't know how to fight the onslaught, doesn't know how to get away. Wave after wave of both love and pain slam into her body; never ceasing, never ending. It's pulling her down under the surface and there's no escape.

In the back of her mind, she understands what's happening to her. She knows that all she has to do is pull back, untangle her thoughts from his, but she can't, she's not strong enough. She's losing her grip, just like she did so long ago at Canary Wharf...

Only this time, it's not her universe she's about to lose, but her mind.


	11. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer:** Doctor Who owns my soul, I own nothing.**  
Spoilers: **Through season three  
**Thanks To: **Snowfox3 and Sinecure for the beta

* * *

"_Rose!"_

She hears the voice calling her name. Hears the concern--the fear for her life--underlying it. She knows she should respond but she can't. It's taking all of her strength, all of her power, just to keep the darkness at bay.

She's dying. Or will, if she doesn't find a way to stop this. Her mind is already starting to shut down and it's becoming harder and harder to determine where his ends and hers begins.

Then, suddenly, it's over. She doesn't even notice when the tendrils of her thoughts are untangled from his. Doesn't feel it as her mind is thrust out of his and back into her own consciousness. One second she's with him, feeling everything he feels, and the next she's standing in her bedroom again.

Her legs begin to buckle, pulling her down to the floor. Reaching out, she grabs the nearest sturdy object and holds on tight, waiting for the room to stop spinning. The headache she thought she beat is back with a vengeance. The one before was bad enough but it's nothing compared to this. And it's not just her head this time...every single part of her body is hurting.

The pain is so overwhelming, she retches once, twice, and she's sure she's going to be sick all over the new, white carpeting. Somehow she manages to hold onto the contents of her stomach and then there's a cool hand on her forehead, pushing the sweaty strands of hair out of her eyes. An arm wraps around her waist and she leans into it, letting the solid form behind her hold her upright.

"Rose, honey, are you alright?"

OOO

He can hear the drones behind him crying out in pain as he's forced out of their linked consciousness. The one in front of him--the one that appears to be their leader and is, for now, his jailer--hisses in anger, slamming his fist on the console in front of him.

"Traitor!" it screeches, both within the Doctor's mind and without. "You led the child to us, you fool!"

"I didn't--" he's quick to deny, and he's telling the truth. He has absolutely no idea how Rose got into his mind, nor how she managed to do so at such a great distance. It goes against everything he's ever known; a simple human, connecting telepathically to him is impossible. Beyond impossible!

"You were warned, Doctor. I told you she was most displeased. If you cannot do something about the human then we will have to stop her ourselves!"

"No, no, no, no, no." He raises his hands in surrender. "Look, she didn't know what she was doing, that's all." He pauses, searching desperately for words that will appease this Wraith standing in front of him, appease him enough that he won't go back on their deal and turn the ship towards Earth once more. "She--I can block her out next time. I can block her and stop her from interfering. She's--weak ...she's," he cringes inwardly and finishes, "nothing. She's nothing." He hopes his words are enough to convince it to leave Rose alone. "It won't happen again," he promises, rebuilding his mental blocks, adding a few anti-Rose ones as he goes. "Just...just leave her out of this."

There's a pregnant pause and then he finds himself on the receiving end of a Wraith's mirth once again. "You are not as wise as you believe yourself to be, Doctor," it laughs. "She is not weak; she is strong and dangerous, this one you care so much about. We could use her to our advantage..." The look it gives him is unmistakable: mess with us again and we will not hesitate to do just that.

"Please," he says, his voice low, solemn. He does not wish to get the Wraith riled up again, because, well, he doesn't have a plan here...he's stuck on their ship with the very real possibility of death, his death. Oh, sure, he may come up with something eventually, something on the fly. Something clever and brilliant and so him, but, at the moment, he is a prisoner and very much at their mercy.

After a moment's consideration, it nods its head and the drones beside him, now completely recovered from the unexpected invasion into their minds, grab his arms. "I will leave her...for now. But mark my words, Doctor, if she causes us one more problem we will dispose of your Rose and nothing you do, nothing you say, will stop us!"

OOO

"An' you just left 'im there?" Her voice rises in pitch until she's screaming at him. She's gone from feeling sick, to bawling like a baby, to this, and she knows there's a hysterical note to her voice--her behavior--but she doesn't care. How could Jack let this happen? How could he have done nothing to try to stop it?

He reaches out to her, tries to take her hand in his, but she won't allow it, not now, and probably not ever again. With a sigh, he drops his arm to his side. "There was no other way, Rose. He told me--showed me--on the way to the Wraith ship. If he hadn't agreed to their terms they would've destroyed Earth and everyone on it."

Somewhere deep down, she knows that he's right, that there was nothing else they could have done but, still, she refuses to believe it. "We could 'ave done _something_!"

"No, Rose, we couldn't have."

"We could've fought back. Blown their ships out of the sky!" She can see him shaking his head but doesn't give him the chance to respond. "We 'ave weapons; big, powerful weapons that surely would've destroyed--"

"No," he repeats, his voice soft yet firm. There's a look of infinite patience on his face that only serves to infuriate her more.

He allowed this to happen. He could've stopped it, could've convinced the Doctor there was some other way...but he didn't.

"Says who? You?" she yells again, backing away from him. "So, because Mr. All-Knowing Jack Harkness doesn't think we could've done it that makes it fact? This isn't your Torchwood. You don't even know what we're capable of here!"

He doesn't even flinch, just continues with his frustratingly calm tone. "True enough, but the Doctor did. Pete...your dad, showed him." He turns to look out the window. "Trust me, Rose, it wouldn't have worked. Their numbers were too great and their technology far superior to yours."

She doesn't respond at first. The anger that, just a few minutes ago, consumed her, has been depleted, leaving in its place a despair like none she has felt before. Not even her separation from the Doctor at Canary Wharf or the final goodbye on the windswept beach at Bad Wolf Bay compares to this. At least then she knew he was still out there somewhere traveling in the TARDIS, going from one adventure to the next. Safe, or as safe as he's ever been before. He wasn't being held prisoner, a slave to a compassion-less race of life-thirsty snakes.

Yeah, it hurt, knowing she would probably never see him again, but this? This is slowly ripping her apart from the inside-out. No matter how she treated him over the past few days, she still loves him with all her heart and she can't bear the thought that he sacrificed himself once again for a bunch of stupid apes who will never truly appreciate all he does for them.

"Rose?" Jack asks hesitantly.

Suddenly she wants nothing more than for someone else to hurt just as much as she is hurting, wants to be the one to twist the knife and watch the pain steal over their face.

_She doesn't notice--is too caught up in her own anger--when Jack's eyes widen in surprise, his hand moving to his throat._

Maybe that's wrong of her, maybe it's selfish and cruel and nothing like the Rose Tyler she once was.

_His face screws up, his mouth opens wide, a gasp of air exiting his lungs._

But that's the thing isn't it?

_He can't breathe, can't swallow down the non-existent blockage that's preventing the flow of oxygen into his body._

Because, once upon a time, she was that naïve19-year-old shop girl who wouldn't hurt a fly, but unfortunately, that girl packed her bags and left town a long time ago.

_He's getting dizzy, lightheaded. Blindly reaching out, he's grasping for something--anything--he can hold onto._

There's a sick sort of satisfaction when it actually happens, when she finally opens her mouth and voices the thought that has been at the back of her mind all this time.

_His body is on fire and he knows, braces himself, for the death and rebirth waiting patiently for his certain fall._

"It should've been you, Jack."

OOO

As quickly as it began, it ends.

The second she turns from him he can breathe again. Gulping in huge mouthfuls of air, he tries to ignore what just almost happened. He doesn't want to believe it was intentional, can't believe she meant to...

But the anger was very real. He saw it in her eyes, in the rigidness of her stance. She blames him for what happened to the Doctor and that was a blow he saw coming, knew would happen eventually, but it still caught him off-guard. He thought it would take her longer to work out the logistics of it, to realize that the situation doesn't make any sense.

Obviously he underestimated her, in more ways then one.

It hurts to talk, but he has to make her understand somehow. "Rose, I..."

"No, Jack," she cuts in, the challenge unmistakable. "It should've been you and you know it. He may be a Time Lord but he's not immortal. Sooner or later he's going to run out of regenerations and then he'll die just like anyone else...except _you_."

There's a slight quaver in her voice, the resolve that she thought so strong failing her, but he doesn't notice. He's too busy fighting off the rising tide of shame that's slowly choking him.

"Is that the sort of mate you are? Huh? Good for a little flirting, but when it comes down to it, you run in fear, tail between your legs?"

She's right. Oh God, she doesn't even know just how right she is. 'Cause he could've stopped the Doctor but he hadn't tried, not nearly hard enough.

"_You can't feed all of them. You'll run out of regenerations."_

_"It's not just my life they want. I'm a Time Lord, Jack. I've lived for over 900 hundred years. There's so much knowledge, knowledge that they want, that they could use to their advantage."_

_"But, I could..."_

_"No!"_

He hadn't tried to argue, didn't point out how much more sense it made for him to be the sacrifice. The fear was too strong. Dying isn't exactly his most favorite experience in the world and the thought of having to live that over and over again for the rest of his life...

"_Besides, she needs you."_

_"It's you she needs, Doc."_

_"She won't even look at me, not anymore." He turned, but not before Jack caught a glimpse of pain in the other man's eyes. When he spoke again, his voice was quiet, subdued, "be there for her, Jack. Be there for her when she needs a friend."_

He handed it to Jack on a silver platter, free for the taking. A valid, reasonable excuse for letting his friend die in his place. The problem is, it doesn't make him feel any better like it should. It doesn't stop the guilt from overcoming him.

And it certainly isn't going to make Rose any happier.

Not knowing what else to do and not wanting to make things any worse than they already are, he makes his way to the bedroom door. He can feel her eyes, defiant and willful, boring a hole in his back but she doesn't say anything.

She just lets him leave.

OOO

It's later, much later, when they're finally able to have a proper sit-down.

An emotionally exhausted Rose is sleeping peacefully upstairs, thanks to the sedative that Martha administrated shortly after supper. _Thank God, at least she'll be getting a good night's sleep,_ Jack thinks to himself as he regards the rest of his overly tired team. It's been way too long since any of them have managed to grab more than an hour or two of shut eye and the strain of it is apparent on their faces.

"So, now what, Jack?" Owen speaks up first, absently flicking at a speck of fuzz on his jumper. "Don't get me wrong, we're all worried about Rose, but some of us have a life in the other universe we'd like to go back to."

Gwen's lips turn up into a smirk. "Boozing and shagging hardly counts as a life."

"Oi!," Owen gasps, feigning a hurt expression as he tosses a pillow in her direction.

The camaraderie between the two of them is like a slap in the face and it takes every last bit of control for Jack to keep from getting misty-eyed. If it weren't for him they wouldn't even be here in the first place. He recruited them to Torchwood, asked them to come along on this mission . . . he hadn't insisted upon taking the Doctor's place on the hive ship. If it had been Jack instead, then at least they could've--

"Jack?"

All eyes are on him, waiting expectantly. Only Martha seems to realize the impossibility of what they're asking. Traveling with the Doctor as long as she has it's not surprising that she understands that only one person in this universe (or any other for that matter) can fly the TARDIS and get them home again. And that person is millions of miles away, quite possibly dead or dying at this very moment.

"How're we gonna get home, Jack?" Gwen prompts when his silence spreads out too long.

He wishes this task didn't always have to fall to him but they have to know. As much as he doesn't want to extinguish their hope, they have the right to know just how unlikely it is they'll ever see their rightful universe ever again. "We don't," he says, watching as their eyes widen a bit. "The Doctor's the only one who can fly the TARDIS."

"I thought your self-important-arse could fly anything?"

"Not the TARDIS, Owen. I can…the Doctor taught me some very basic controls when I traveled with him but there's more to it than flipping a few switches, turning a few dials."

"Wait a second…Jack?" Gwen says, eyes rising to meet his. "I thought you said that Rose flew it once?"

"Yeah, ya did!" Owen chimes in as he leans forward in his seat.

He does not like where this is going, where they think this is going. "I did but…" turning from them he paces the room. "That was...it was an extenuating circumstance."

"And this isn't?" The anger and frustration is evident in Owen's voice.

He whips around to face his chief medical advisor, his fury barely contained. "She almost died. Would have if the Doctor hadn't been there to save her. Who's going to do that now? Who's gonna save Rose when we get back to our universe and she burns up from all that power?"

"I could--" Owen begins but Jack cuts him off.

"Really?" Jack crosses the room until he's standing directly in front of him. "You're gonna take the time vortex out of her before it kills her? The Doctor did it but even he couldn't handle all that power. It killed him, Owen. Do you really think you'd fair much better? Are you willing to take the risk?"

Owen just swallows and leans back into the couch. Jack can tell he's frightened, all of them are by the looks of things, but he decides to use that fear to his advantage. 'Cause no matter how much his team means to him, no matter how fond he's grown of all of them (yes, even Owen) he cares about Rose even more. She's always been so much more than a friend to him, her companionship transcending anything he's ever experienced before. And, even though he may not be at the top of her list right now--in fact, he seems to be rather low on that list at the moment, right below cockroaches and beetles--Jack will not risk her life for anyone or anything.

Taking a step back and turning slightly to the left so he can face all of them at once, he seeks out their attention. Once he's certain all eyes are on him he continues, voice calm but firm. "I will not ask her to do that for us and neither will any of you."

Worst-case scenario they end up stuck in this universe for the rest of their lives. As horrible as that may sound, at least they'd have a life. If Rose somehow, by some miracle, was able to fly the TARDIS through the void and back into their universe, she wouldn't even have that.

"Discussion. Over."


	12. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer:** Doctor Who owns my soul, I own nothing.**  
Spoilers: **Through season three  
**Thanks To: **Snowfox3 and Sinecure for the beta

* * *

_It's now or never,_ Rose thinks to herself. And she's right.

It's been two weeks--two long, excruciating weeks--surrounded by the people who love and care about her, and she's had more than enough. She needs to get out of this house and away from their sympathy and concern that's slowly suffocating her.

She needs to live.

In some ways, she feels bad about her decision to move on. It took her longer than this to mourn the Doctor the last time they were separated. She knows now though that she took far too long then. It wasn't good and it wasn't healthy. It was just day-after-day of remembering and missing, crying silently into her pillow and screaming at the unfairness of it all to the stars.

She really doesn't fancy going through that again, doesn't think she could survive it once more. So she does the one thing she can think of that might help, takes the first step on what she is sure will be a long, difficult road to recovery...

She returns to work.

OOO

The Doctor knows his brief respite is coming to an end.

He's been left alone these last few weeks, left to his thoughts in the tiny room that serves as his cell. His mind his only companion, he discovers that, despite his constant boasting, he doesn't really prefer to be on his own after all. He misses having someone to talk to, misses the contact with others he's so used to, so dependent on.

He misses Rose.

In a way, this time is worse--far worse--than before. Because, all those years ago, when he lost her the first time, he was forced–unwillingly--back into his life, a life that does not support actions as self-indulgent as tears and heartbreak. Oh, he doesn't think, even for a minute, that he wasn't devastated by their separation. Because he was. He just didn't have the time, back then, to let it affect him as much as it does now.

Of course, the last time he actually had something to lose; he had Rose. Not this time though. No, the Rose he knows now, he doesn't really know at all. This Rose doesn't even want him around, not anymore.

And that makes it even worse.

OOO

"And do what? Mope around while the rest of you lot are out _living_?" She screeches, cringing inwardly when she realizes just how much she sounds like her mum. People are beginning to stare openly now, no longer trying to pretend that they're actually working and not watching the scene unfolding just outside their office doors. She came to Torchwood early, dressed to impress, her conviction clutched tightly to her chest. She was certain she could do this, but with all eyes on her, she finds herself starting to believe in his words, believe that maybe it is too soon.

Why can't Pete just understand that she needs this? That, without it, without getting the bloody hell out of the house and occupying her time with work, she'll go mental. There's only so much heartache a girl can take and this girl has had more than her fair share of it.

Taking a deep, calming breath, she tries again. "I think you forget, I've done enough moping already, yeah? I don't wanna do it again."

"I'm sorry, Rose, but I said no," he repeats firmly, shaking his head and turning away from her, back toward his office.

It's obvious he thinks this conversation is over and done with, but she doesn't. And she's not about to let him slam the door in her face, shutting her out of life. She'd been ready for his denial, even made sure she had a plan 'b' before coming here.

"Then I'll go someplace else."

He stops dead in his tracks and slowly turns back to face her. "What did you say?"

"I said," she intones, standing taller and straighter, "I'll go someplace else."

He raises an eyebrow, challenging her.

"UNIT will 'ave me. They were begging me to join before. Remember?" She doesn't wait for him to respond, just plunges forward before she loses her nerve. "And America. They have a top secret project I'd be perfect for they said." Pete doesn't know about that one, she never told him. She starts ticking off the places that she could work at on her fingers. "Germany, Russia, China, Jap--"

"Okay, okay, already," he interrupts, a look of surrender on his face. "Your mum is gonna kill me for this but...you can come back. On a trial basis only," he warns her when her face breaks into a smile, the first in what feels like ages.

OOO

Hollow footsteps echo down the hall, heading toward the Doctor. This is the first visitor that he's had since the last time they attempted this. Rising from the lumpy mattress that serves as both bed and chair, he gets to his feet and greets the tall, pale figure that enters his cell. This is the same Wraith that first greeted him on the ship, the one he made the deal over Earth with.

The Doctor decides to call him Stan. He looks like a Stan.

"There will be no interruptions this time from your human allies," Stan tells him, striding confidently into the room. "And I expect you will remember your word and offer us no resistance?"

The Doctor can feel the impatience rolling off of Stan in waves, knows that the Wraith wants nothing more right now than to come away from this session with something he can use. He _needs_ something--_anything_--he can give his Queen that will convince her he made the right decision in choosing the Doctor over Earth.

Standing in front of his warden, the Doctor waits, broken and submissive. There is no plan, no hope, no way out. He knows this now, knows there is absolutely nothing he can do to escape, to return to the life he once knew.

He may have given up, but he is not about to give in.

Before Stan can reach out to his mind, the Doctor partitions off his memories, placing those he wants to keep to himself in a small, locked box made of the strongest materials in the universe. He doesn't hide it--knows it will be found no matter what dark corner of his mind he puts it in--he simply leaves it out in the open.

These memories--the few truly happy ones he has of a life otherwise spent destroying lives and losing those he loves--they can't have. He knows they aren't going to take too kindly to his rebellion, but he doesn't care. They won't be allowed to spoil them, won't be allowed to touch the perfection of them with their sick, twisted minds. Because, if he's going to spend the rest of his long life as a slave to this bloodthirsty race, he'll do so with these memories left intact.

Either he's more prepared for it this time, or Stan is trying to be nice (something he isn't even sure the Wraith is capable of). But, within seconds, the Doctor's ruse is spotted and the firm insistence turns into a forceful shove.

He ignores it, bracing himself for the backlash that's sure to come.

"_Let us in!"_ he hears the hissing in his mind.

He doesn't bother to answer, just places more locks around what is now his most prized possession.

"_Insolent fool,"_ an irate Stan screams, and the Doctor knows, even with his eyes firmly shut, that the Wraith is moving across the cell towards him. "_You will not stop us from taking what it is we desire!"_

He's slammed against the wall behind him and a hard, unmoving object is pressed against his chest, preventing him from any thought of fighting back. He knows what comes next, but he doesn't care. He'll gladly suffer this and anything else they can throw at him to keep these memories safe.

Stan doesn't hold back, quickly draining year-after-year of the Doctor's life. In the blink of an eye, it's gone, all that time he's yet to live. Gone forever, with no hope of ever getting them back. But it doesn't matter; he doesn't try to fight it. Holding tight to the small box in the center of his mind--embracing it like he never did the love offered to him so many times before, from so many companions--he finally finds peace.

There are things he's done wrong in his time, lives he's destroyed without even raising a finger, but he'll never be able to fix them, not now anyway. It's a truth he'll just have to learn to live with, for as long as is left to him...

Which, he thinks just before the darkness claims him, may not be as long as he once thought...

OOO

As the Time Lord falls to the mattress beneath him, the Wraith smiles a sickeningly twisted smile that makes even the drones look away nervously. He doesn't notice their fear however, nor does he notice when they take a step away from him. What he has just learned is too big, too important to waste even one more second on them and their pitiful emotions.

Staring at the prisoner at his feet, Stan chuckles to himself.

"_I have found it, my Queen, and it is greater and brighter than we ever could have hoped for. And to think, the fool did not even try to hide this from us. Locking away all those precious, useless memories, and __**this**__, this he leaves out in the open."_

OOO

A week later Rose comes to the realization that her plan isn't working.

Sure, it felt better at first to simply get out and do something with her life. But, no matter what she did, the darkness always remained, lurking at the edges of her soul.

And, if anything, being at Torchwood only seems to make it worse.

Sitting behind the large desk in her office, she stares out the window sadly. There are too many memories here, too many things that remind her of the Doctor and how she lost him…both this time and the last.

London has become something of a sore spot for her and she can't help but feel she'd be better off someplace else, someplace far away from here. Unfortunately, the one place she'd rather be is unreachable now. The one person she'd rather be with is gone. Without his hand in hers, she has no desire--no motivation--to reach for something more.

And it's all her fault.

Despite what she said to Jack all those weeks ago, she knows that the blame lies with her and not him. Yes, he could've stopped the Doctor from sacrificing himself to the Wraith, but if she hadn't treated him so poorly in the first place, if she hadn't held him at arms length, perhaps he wouldn't have considered throwing his life away so recklessly in the first place. She did this to the Doctor, she hurt him with her selfish words and childish, inconsiderate actions. And now he's gone, possibly dead, and she's here living a half-life that she doesn't want.

She had wanted to live again. Wanted to feel something other than this desolate loneliness that follows her everywhere, no matter what. And she does try. She tries to make the best of what she has but as the hours fade into days, and the days into weeks, she finds that all she's really doing is going through the motions.

Wake, shower, dress, eat, work, eat, and sleep. These are the things that make up her life. But two of them she isn't even sure she can count, because she rarely sleeps and barely eats. She's wasting away to nothing and sporting dark circles under her eyes. She's not even sure she recognizes herself anymore.

Turning from her reflection in the window, she opens the bottom desk drawer and stares at the object inside. She had picked it up a few days ago on her way home from work, swearing that she'd never use it, that it was a just in case. It's a road she'd never thought she'd go down, but now...

Now she knows that, if something doesn't change soon, if she doesn't find some amount of peace in this life, she's going to snap.

OOO

He wakes some time later feeling...well, feeling drained. The thought elicits a snort and an upturning of his lips. "_If you can't laugh at yourself..." "When life hands you lemons..."_ And all that.

If he were a little more sane right now, he might think himself a bit insane.

How large a chunk of his life they drained, he's not sure. It was certainly bigger then a deck of cards but probably smaller then a breadbox. And that, he finds amusing too. Chuckling to himself, he slowly rises up onto an elbow.

At least they had the decency to put him on the mattress when they were done. Amazingly he feels no worse for the wear, only sore, like he's been sleeping for an inordinately long period of time. Which he knows he hasn't because...well, Time Lord and all that.

Dragging himself into a standing position he does a quick mental checklist, while stretching his body. Nothing seems to be out of place, or damaged but he can't get over the feeling that he _should_ feel different somehow. Everything appears to be fine though and he's not about to complain.

He stumbles into the small bathroom provided for him and splashes water on his face. The coldness helps to wake him up and clear his head a little. Then with a quick swipe of his shirtsleeve he attempts to clean up the grimy mirror and gives his appearance a quick once over.

He looks...older. Not a lot, and probably not enough for anyone else to notice but there is definitely a difference between now and the last time he glanced into the filthy mirror. Running his damp fingers through his hair, making it stand on end, he turns away from his image, wondering why he even bothers. It's not like it matters if he looks like himself or not, there's no one around to notice his changing appearance but Stan.

Three large glasses of water and one awfully long piss later, he returns to his main living quarters and checks for the tray of food typically left just inside the doorway. He's feeling a bit shaky and his stomach is nipping at his backbone but, unfortunately, all he finds is his previous meal, moldy now and smelling slightly rotten.

That's odd. They always remove the tray within a few hours of the meal. This one's been here...he sniffs it, pokes at the green, slightly furry bits of meat and vegetables left on the plate. But that can't be!

Straightening in alarm, he reaches out with his mind, grasps at the tendrils of the time stream. He can't have! But the proof is in the pudding, so to speak, and the pudding (or what constitutes as such for the Wraith) has been sitting, at room temperature, for at least a week. Which means...

But that can't be! He's a Time Lord--one quick catnap every few days and he's good to go--why would he have slept for a little over seven and a half days? With growing concern he strides over to the outer wall of his cell, banging on it with his fist while trying to make some sense of what little he can see through the cloudy, smeared material that reminds him of glass but isn't.

"Hey! Toe lint breath!" he yells, straining to catch a glimpse of the guard always posted nearby. "I know you're out there. Come on, Time Lord buffet here. You know you want some."

He waits one minute, another, and then one more just to be safe. Still there's no response, not even a whisper. The Doctor's always been capable of remaining calm during very tense situations, but he can feel his alarm slowly spiraling into a sort of out-of-control, overwhelming fear.

And the fear only gets worse when he realizes the constant chatter in the back of his mind--the chatter that he's been battling since first stepping foot on this ship--is now silent. Reaching out, expanding his range, he searches for something, anything that would indicate that he's not utterly and completely alone.

But, no matter how desperately he searches, no matter how far out he drives his thoughts, he finds nothing.


	13. Chapter 12

**Disclaimer:** Doctor Who owns my soul, I own nothing.**  
Spoilers: **Through season three  
**Thanks To: **Snowfox3 and Sinecure for the beta

* * *

Frustration apparent in his every movement, the Doctor tries once more to break the stubborn glass-not-glass on his cell door. He's been working at it for the last five minutes and he could've sworn he felt it shift, just the slightest bit--when he rammed his now throbbing elbow into it--but still it doesn't break. He's not about to give up though, not when the ship is empty of all lifeforms but himself, and his freedom is just a quarter of an inch of material away. Despite the ache in his elbow and the tiredness of his limbs, he continues to bang on it with as much force as his nutrient-weakened body can muster.

"Wouldn't bother with that if I were you," a muffled voice calls out, startling him.

Jerking his head up in shock and surprise he finds, not a Wraith as he fears, but a man; tall, muscular, with a head-full of dreadlocks, and a condescending smile gracing his lips.

"If I can't break it, then neither can you."

Opening his mouth to inquire who the man is and what, exactly, he's doing on a Wraith ship, the Doctor notices three other individuals standing on the other side of the door, watching him. One of them is an averaged sized man, who keeps looking around him as if he expects a Wraith to jump out at any moment. The other is a bit taller, with dark hair, and a gun at the ready. And the last member of the team is a woman; small, but powerful looking, with an easy smile and haunted eyes.

"Who're all of you then?" he asks, keeping his voice calm, neutral. The sight of these four, very human looking individuals, makes his heart hum with hope. But he doesn't want to assume anything, he's too far from...

"Your ride home," the confident one responds with a wave of his hand. "Name's Sheppard and, if McKay," he turns to the nervous one, "would hurry up--"

"Working on it!"

"--and finish getting that door open--"

"Going as fast as I can," McKay snaps, typing furiously on a laptop he has wired into the Wraith ship. "I think we've gone over this before, Sheppard. It isn't like playing one of your shoot 'em up video games."

Sheppard raises an eyebrow at him.

"It's very complicated and requires my full attention--"

"So stop talking then," the one with the dreads smirks at him, crossing the room over to one of the multiple hallways branching off of this one.

The friendly bickering back and forth, the playful teasing amongst obvious friends, makes the Doctor's twinge in an entirely different way. But he doesn't have time for that right now, doesn't need to be dwelling on things lost when he's only just barely been found.

Bouncing on the balls of his feet impatiently, he doesn't miss the countless weapons the one with dreads is carrying on his person. Nor does he miss the ease with which he's holding the gun he that is currently hanging loosely at his side. He doesn't know who these people are or why they're so willing to risk their lives to save him but he's not about to look a gift horse in the mouth. He just wishes they'd hurry up and...

"Are those my things?" he blurts out, eyes alighting on the small bundle the auburn-haired woman is holding.

She smiles and nods in his direction, remaining suspiciously silent. He feels a surge of excitement. "Left, front pocket. Sonic screwdriver." He waits while she digs it out. "Now, slip it through here," he says, indicating the small opening his trays had been sent through at meal time.

"What's a sonic screwdriver?" McKay wrinkled his nose, skeptical of the seemingly useless tool.

With a wag of his eyebrows, the Doctor grabs it the instant it comes through the slot. "You'll see," he smiles, quickly adjusting the settings and aiming it at the lock.

There are a few gasps when the door swings open almost immediately. Stepping out of the small room that has served as his home for the last three weeks, he flips the sonic screwdriver into the air, watches it twist once, twice, then catches it and puts it in his back pocket.

"But..." McKay stares at him in shock. "That's..that's not possible!"

OOO

They made it through the Wraith ship without incident. The place was deserted, but the Doctor had known that already, known it the instant he reached out his mind to link with another. Down one empty corridor after another they went, until finally the came to a hangar bay, where a Puddle Jumper--a smaller space traveling vessel the SGA team used--was waiting.

"So let me make sure I heard you correctly," the Doctor says, sitting back in his seat. He's safe now, some distance from the Hive ship he was just minutes ago imprisoned on. "You're a group of humans," he glances at Teyla (the woman who returned his sonic screwdriver) and Ronon (the man with the dreads), "well, mostly human." He rubs the back of his neck. "So, you're a group of mostly human-humans who travel through a large circular device...a Stargate. And the Stargate allows you to cross great distances instantaneously and is how you came to the Pegasus galaxy...where you live in the mythical city of Atlantis?"

"Not mythical," McKay pipes up, mouth full of apple, bits of which he sprays out across the room in the process. In the short amount of time the Doctor has spent with these people he's already got this one pegged; he's one of those sorts who thinks he knows everything...and he's bright enough he probably does. Or at least everything a human could know, would be capable of knowing. So, in that case, not even close to knowing everything, after all. "The myth was based on the place, not the other way around."

"Right," the Doctor nods curtly, already becoming a bit tired with the little man and his cockiness. "So you live in the lost city of Atlantis, fight the Wraith, and save the universe. And, there's another group of you back on Earth, situated somewhere in America--Colorado was it?--that do the same thing, only they fight a race of snake creatures called the Goa'uld. Right?"

"That's it in a nutshell," Sheppard replies, eyes trained on the console readouts in front of him. "But what about you, Doc? Who exactly are you?"

"Yeah, and, what makes you so special the Wraith want to clone you?"

"Clone me?" The Doctor turns to McKay, eyes widening in surprise.

"It's how we found out about you." Sheppard swivels his chair around to face them. "We picked up some chatter that the Wraith had acquired themselves a new pet. Said they were taking him back to their breeding planet, where they wanted to clone him. Said he wasn't human..."

"I'm not," the Doctor replies offhandedly, barely listening to the conversation anymore. So that was Stan's plan. Forget life draining and memory stealing; he wanted to make himself his own little race of Time Lord clones. No doubt not only as a means to feed the Wraith forever, but for other, less desirable, reasons as well.

"So what are you then?" McKay asks, but the Doctor never gets a chance to respond.

There's a loud beeping noise and Sheppard turns back to the console quickly, scanning the newest readouts. "McKay, is Orion ready? Cause everyone's home now."

Glancing down at his laptop display, McKay nods. "Charged up and ready to go."

"Good, then let's have a little practice run."

Ronon, who's remained quiet this whole time, pushes himself away from the door frame he was leaning against and slaps the Doctor on his shoulder. "Watch this," he says with a wolfish grin.

Turning to look out the window, the Doctor watches the sky, wondering what exactly Orion is. He doesn't have to wait long though before there's a bright explosion and all his unspoken questions are answered. The Wraith ship, which just seconds before was floating in mid-space, becomes nothing more then debris flying out in every direction. There's nothing left, no chance of any survivors. The ship is utterly and completely destroyed in a matter of seconds.

He rips his eyes away from the scene, swallowing hard, and trying to ignore the whoops and hollers from the four individuals who now hold his life in their hands. There's no difference between these people and so many others he's ran into in his travels--like Torchwood--which shouldn't really come as a surprise to him...

Rising abruptly from his seat, the Doctor quickly makes his way to the back of the ship, as far away from the display of violence he just witnessed as he can get.

OOO

The Doctor is sitting in the back of the Puddle Jumper, lost in thought about everything he's seen, when she comes to him a short while later. The rest of the team is occupied with getting them to the rendezvous point--on a large ship called the Daedalus--where they'll send him on his way back to Earth. Her eyes are troubled and he sees that this woman, more than any other he has known, is empathetic to the point of pain. He knows also, sensed in her from the first moment he saw her, that she is telepathic.

"Let me help you?" Teyla asks him, standing close enough that the others cannot hear, yet far enough away so as not to intrude in his personal space.

The Doctor glances up at her, trying to temper the emotions he knows are flitting across his face. He's pretty sure of what this is all about, but being the stubborn Time Lord that he is, he can't make it easy on her, and instead of responding, gives her a blank look.

"You're in pain." She takes a tentative step forward, reaches out a hand to him but stops just short of touching his shoulder, then lets her arm fall to her side.

"No." He shakes his head. "I told you, on the Wraith ship, I'm alright. I--"

"You're always alright?"

His mouth snaps shut, staring into eyes that are so deep, so fathomless, it's like he's staring straight down into her very soul. Obviously, this woman is far better than he thought...or he is doing a really poor job of hiding his thoughts.

"It is very easy to know one is thinking and feeling if you just pay close enough attention to him." She smiles gently when he turns, a startled look on his face. "No, I am not reading your thoughts, Doctor. You are just...your hurt is very intense."

He shakes his head. "Told you. I'm fine. They wanted me alive, not dead or injured."

She laughs, and it's light and musical, and makes his hearts clench, reminding him of someone else who once cared so much. "Must we play these games? You know, as well as I do, that I am not talking about pain of the body...but of the heart."

She sits down beside him, so close he can hear her heart beating, and reaches out to take his hand in hers. He doesn't try to stop her, despite the fact that he barely knows her. Having been alone for so very long now, he's ashamed to admit he craves--no needs--not just companionship, but touch; pure, simple, physical contact.

The instant her skin glides over his own, he realizes his mistake.

The stress of the last few months--years--has taken it's toll on a mind already riddled with guilt and a body pushed to the limit far too many times. He's slipping in his old age, letting things get past him that he shouldn't and, if this keeps up, he may just have to consider parking the TARDIS somewhere and taking the slow path.

He manages to stop her though, before she sees too much. The flow of memories from him to her isn't nearly as quick as when the Wraith invaded his mind, but it's fast enough. She doesn't get close to the Time War and the destruction of his planet, his people, but that's not what she wants to know about anyway.

"She loves you," the voice is gentle, calm, even in the face of everything she's just seen.

He doesn't need clarification--has no need for a name--he knows who she's referring to. Ripping his hand from hers angrily--how dare she pretend to know how Rose feels--he rises from his seat and begins to pace. "You don't understand," his voice is gruff, and he swallows down the tears that are threatening to break through.

"I understand that, sometimes, it's the ones we love the most that we hurt the worst."

He stops dead in his tracks, a shiver running down his spine. Her words, wisdom so easily given, is so very difficult to hear. Because he knows, deep down in his hearts, it's true--he's done it himself countless times--hurt those around him, those that he loves. He's left so many of them behind, denied even more of them the opportunity to get in. But he has his reasons, because none of them, has any clue as to just how dangerous a man he is.

"Have you never hurt _her_?" she asks gently.

"Of course I haven't..." He turns back to her, eyes wide in shock, but he can't finish. Because it's a lie and he knows it. He hurt Rose so many times, too many to count, but it was always for her own protection, always for her safety. "I had my reasons." He sniffs.

"And you don't think she has her own? Or is it that they could not be nearly good enough? Not as good as a Time Lord's?" Her words are brutal, her face dark with an honesty that he doesn't want to see.

"You've lived such a sad, lonely life, Doctor. And, yet, for a time, you were so very happy. Nothing like the man I see before me now." She frowns. "Why you would give up something that good, that _right_, without a fight is beyond me."

Opening his mouth to speak and then quickly closing it again, he searches for a response. She's hit the mark far closer then she could even imagine, far closer then anyone else before, and he doesn't really want to hear this, doesn't want to accept relationship advice from someone who barely knows him. She can't possibly understand the complexities of who he is, can't comprehend what Rose means to him and what he's done--is willing to do--just to keep her safe.

She doesn't understand.

OOO

"So you think you can manage to fly this thing, Doc?" Ronon asks, smacking his open palm on the side of the Wraith Dart they managed to procure for his ride home.

The Doctor nods, wishing they would hurry up with the goodbyes already. The last few days with the SGA team--both on the Puddle Jumper and here, on the Daedalus--he's had the chance to get to know all of them better and they're a good group of people, they are. He's actually grown quite fond of some of them and others...well, he thinks, as McKay comes charging through the doors, piece of paper clutched in his hand, others have just barely begun to grown on him.

"I've got you the list of Stargate addresses," McKay says, handing the paper to the Doctor. "There are twelve of them in all that you'll have to go through. Just remember to thread the needle carefully. Wouldn't want you to crash and take out one of our doors home." He gives a nervous laugh.

"Thank you." And he genuinely means it. They've taken care of him here, gone above and beyond what was necessary, all to get him back home...well, back to the place where he needs to be in order to get back home. Well, the TARDIS is there and she's home so, in a way, they are sending him home.

He doesn't even know why he's in such a hurry. It's not like there's anything for him back on Earth anymore. Returning will mean leaving again, dropping his companions back where they belong and then continuing on in his travels, alone. Jack has Torchwood, Martha her family (and, after the way he treated her before, he doubts she'd want to stay with him anyway), and Rose...well, he doesn't really want to think about Rose right now.

The rest of the team have entered the hangar bay by now, along with a few others from the Daedalus. There's a round of goodbyes, good lucks, and plenty of handshakes. Then, after a quick check to make sure his supplies are sufficient for the long trip, he begins to board the Dart but is stopped by Teyla.

"Doctor," she says, taking his hands. There's no transfer of memories this time, he's remembered to set his blocks and reinforce them. "I...I just wanted to tell you...to think about what I said. And, think about what's right, what you really want. Not in here," and she touches his forehead, "but here." She places her hands over his hearts.

He tries swallowing but finds there's a lump in his throat that he just can't get past. Feeling more than a little uncomfortable, he gives her a quick nod and then steps through the doors and onto the ship that will take him back to Earth.


	14. Chapter 13

**Disclaimer:** Doctor Who owns my soul, I own nothing.**  
Spoilers: **Through season three  
**Thanks To: **Snowfox3 and Sinecure for the beta

* * *

The first time it happens, she's having lunch at a local cafe. Oddly enough it's the same exact cafe that, in another universe, she first met Martha Jones. In fact, it's even the same time of day. The parallels aren't lost on Rose, but the impact of the coincidences isn't nearly as meaningful as it should be. Not at first, anyway.

Wrapping her hands around her warm mug of hot chocolate, she watches as the tall, blond waitress (Marie her name tag says) stops to talk with one of her customers. There's something familiar about her, something that reminds Rose of someone she's known before. Maybe someone from her previous life...

Shaking her head in frustration, Rose turns her attention to the newspaper on the table. Those are dangerous thoughts that she doesn't need to be having right now. She's had enough of dwelling on the past and bemoaning the future, thank you very much. It's time to learn to live in the present and ignore all the what-ifs that are constantly nagging at the back of her mind. She's done nothing so far to have that fantastic life the Doctor's always wanted for her

Going back to work obviously didn't help any, so this is her new plan: Get out of the house for reasons other than Torchwood and try to act like she's a normal person. A normal person who doesn't really belong here and used to travel through time and space in a little blue box that's bigger on the inside.

A normal person who just lost the Time Lord that she loves to a group of life-sucking aliens that tried to take over Earth.

Yeah, that's normal, she snickers to herself, then sighs. Well, at least she's putting in the effort.

By the time her plate of food arrives, Rose is feeling just that tiny bit better about things. She can do this, she knows she can. Tyler women do not just lie down and take it when life starts throwing punches. She _can_ get over him. Not forget--because that will never happen--but, at the very least, she can find some semblance of happiness in her life.

Even if she doesn't really feel that she deserves it.

Sprinkling a little salt on her food, Rose tries to imagine just what the future might hold for her. Whatever it is, she'll make the best of it, she thinks to herself as she searches for the bottle of vinegar for her chips. The drone of conversations around her, just loud enough that she can hear but not loud enough to understand, feels comforting, safe. It reminds her of those special treats when her and her mum would go out to eat at a chip shop just like this, just the two of them.

Coming up empty in the vinegar department, she turns her head, meaning to wave down the waitress, when she sees something to her left. It's just a flash, really; a blur of brown and pinstripes, seen out of the corner of her eye but her heart begins to pound at the sight.

It looked like...but it couldn't be.

Rising to her feet, she quickly scans the cafe, searching for a tall, lanky man with gorgeous hair and a smile that can turn her into a puddle of goo. All she finds is the typical crowd for this sort of establishment; families with small children and older couples having their afternoon cuppa. There's no alien with two hearts, not ginger, and just a little bit rude. Of course there isn't. It was just...just a trick of the light, wishful thinking, her mind playing tricks on her.

With shaking hands, she drops her fork to the table and stares at her food, no longer hungry.

OOO

The Doctor hardly even notices his first jump through the Stargate, he is too distracted and worried about things to come. He's barely paying attention to what's happening around him; just enough to make sure he doesn't crash. As a result, he doesn't really see the blue-green wall of liquid that shoots out like a blast before settling calmly within its metal ring of ancient symbols. As he travels through it, he doesn't really see the twisted lines of the time stream, similar and, yet, oh, so dissimilar from the vortex he is used to.

The conversation with Teyla keeps running round and round in his mind. He can't escape it, can't run from the haunting, unwanted words that opened his eyes to the truth of who he is, of what he's done. The sum of his person isn't made up of the worlds destroyed or, the enemies made. No, who he really is, is a man that, because of his own stupid, irrational fears, pushes away those few good things in his life.

Pushes _love_ away.

There's been so much of it, given willingly and without condition. Companions and friends, family and acquaintances; all reaching out for his hand, his hearts, his love. But he refuses them, time and again. Refuses everything they have to offer him. For their own good.

Or is it? Because, when you come right down to the truth of it, are they really in any danger because of him? And isn't it ultimately their choice to make, not his? He likes to think he pushes them away for their protection, but he's beginning to wonder if it's more for his own.

He's not sure, not anymore. What he once thought with such certainty, he is now so confused about that he doesn't know if his whole life has been a lie. Now he's not sure if he actually saved any of them from harm, or if he was the person who hurt them more than anything or anyone else could've.

And, if he's completely honest about it, this situation between him and Rose is just as much his fault as hers. More so, even. Because he blocked her out first, he showed her how to do it, taught her a lesson that she will never forget. He came so close, closer than he's ever been before, to true, unabashed happiness and he threw it all away. The love that he felt so strongly, from the first moment he met Rose, he kept locked up, hidden away, the key lost forever. Instead of embracing it, he let it slip out of his fingers and didn't realize his mistake until it was too late.

Then he arrogantly assumed, if they ever were reunited again (oh, he'd known the possibility was there, he just didn't have the guts to pursue it), that she would feel the same way she always had; that she'd still love him. And their lives would return to the way they were before, with no consequences and no alterations.

He was a fool. He _is_ a fool. Always has been, always will be.

And the thought crosses his mind, not for the first time, that maybe they'd all be better off if they had never met him.

OOO

Rose easily already brushes off the incident in the cafe as nothing more than an overactive imagination and decides to forget all about it.

And she's mostly successful; until Martha and Gwen convince her to join them for a 'ladies night out' anyway.

They corner her after work, insisting that she needs to get out and have some fun. A week ago she would've refused, found some reason to decline, but not now. This is the new and improved Rose Tyler, and if going to some sleazy dance joint with them is what it's going to take to kick-start her life again, then she's all for it.

Sitting uncomfortably in the booth at the club a few hours later, Rose wonders how, exactly, this is supposed to be making things better. Gwen's off dancing with some bloke she just met and a glance Martha's way confirms that she doesn't look like she's having any fun at all. She's just sitting there, staring off into space and looking like she'd rather be anywhere else but here.

"Martha?" Rose has to yell to be heard over the headache-inducing music.

Her inquiry takes Martha off-guard and when she turns, for the briefest of moments, Rose can see the sadness in her eyes, an intense sorrow that she once thought burdened only to her and she realizes; she's spent all this time wallowing in self-pity that she never stopped to think about how the Doctor's absence is affecting anyone else. She's not the only one who loved him or cared for him, yet she certainly has been acting like it.

And she likes Martha, calls her mate. The two of them have become quite close over the last few weeks, So close, Rose finds herself talking to her when she can't talk to anyone else--or does when she actually feels like sharing. But, in all this time, she's completely ignored Martha's feelings.

She reaches out a hand for Martha's arm, intending to offer the woman what comfort she can. But then the expression is gone, buried under a blank stare of neutrality, and Martha is rising from her seat, deftly avoiding Rose's touch.

"Sorry, got a bit distracted there," she smiles at Rose, but it's fake and forced. "Excuse me for a tic? Loo break."

Rose nods and watches as Martha hurries to the back hallway. And suddenly, she wants nothing more than to get out of the suffocating atmosphere of this place. Leaving her drink behind, she quickly makes her way through the streaming crowds of dancers. She finds it difficult to make much progress with hot, sweaty bodies grasping and groping one another and limbs snaking back and forth across the crowded space.

She's just feet from the exit when some drunken fool whose feet haven't compensated for the inebriation of their owner, knocks into her, throwing her to the floor with an oomph. Annoyance flashes through her and she scrambles to get her feet underneath her. But there are too many people, too many dancers, and not one of them seems to have noticed that she's taken a tumble.

After a few moments, she manages to get onto her knees, but she doesn't make it any farther than that before another drunken git steps on her left hand and someone else bumps a thigh into her, and she's down again, this time on her side. She tells them off but no one hears her, or maybe it's just that they don't care.

Her eyes settle on a single, Chuck-clad foot, just behind and slightly to the left of the red heels right in front of her. In any other circumstance, this would hardly be anything to raise an eyebrow at. But, after spending two years in this universe, Rose knows, without a doubt, that no such shoe exists here. They were never made, no one's ever even heard of them.

And for a second, for the briefest of moments, she feels a surge of hope.

Then, before she can search for the face that the shoe belongs to, hands are grabbing her, yanking her up off floor. She's twirled around to stare into the face of a concerned Gwen.

"Rose, are you ok?" She grasps Rose by the shoulders, giving her a once over.

Still shaken by the sight of the shoe, Rose can't quite muster the strength to pull away from her friend. " 'm fine. I jus'..." Throwing a glance over her shoulder, she searches the crowd, which has now dispersed a bit. But nowhere does she see the man she's looking for and she thinks that he was never really there in the first place.

Just like at the cafe.

OOO

Two more gates, just two more of these wonderfully impressive creations of technology, and he'll be home. Well, Pete's equivalent of home. Earth. He'll be on Earth, and alternate universe or not, that's close enough. It's still where the TARDIS is, still where Rose is.

And anywhere that has those two things is home to him.

The Doctor grins widely as he punches in the next gate destination. What started off as a means to get from one place to another has turned into quite the wild ride. It's been amazing, wondrous...its been something he will always remember. Traveling in the TARDIS is sort of like traveling by plane. You make it from point 'a' to point 'b' seeing so little of the passing countryside. But this Wraith ship...a Dart, that's what they called it...has given him the opportunity to take in the sites, so to speak.

It's also allowed him the time needed to really think about what he wants. And he knows now for certain what that is: He wants Rose. Whatever the problem is, whatever it is that has kept her from him, he can fix it. He knows he can fix it, he just has to try. He just has to convince her to let him get close enough to try.

And he will. He has no doubt about that.

OOO

Rose's bedroom is pitch black; windows covered with a thick blanket, another rolled up and jammed in the space between the door and the floor. Despite this, despite the lack of any digital screen, blinking the time in a sickly green color, she knows, if she were to lift the covers from her head, she'd be able to see everything. She'd be able to see _him_.

It's been a week to the day since the first sighting at the cafe. Five days since the one at the club. The third incident occurred the day after that; when she was staring out the window at work and saw a tuft of brown hair, in the exact same shade, styled the same way as her Doctor's.

Later that same day it was a sound that got to her, a sound distinctly like that of the sonic screwdriver. Then, in the middle of the night, she woke to an unmistakable beat of twin hearts. None of the incidents ended up being more than her imagination running away with her.

It was the following day when all hell broke loose and she saw the Doctor, well and truly saw him, for the first time.

Trembling and desperate for air, Rose tears a small hole in her cocoon of safety, thrusting her nose out into the coolness just outside. She can't breathe the warm, humid air within the blankets. She feels like she's in a sauna and cannot fill her lungs enough. Feels as though she is slowly suffocating.

Nostrils flaring rapidly, she tries to push through the lightheadedness, but it's not enough, not nearly enough. She whips the comforter off her head with such ferocity that it flies halfway across the room, landing in a puddle near her dresser. Gulping down large mouthfuls of air, she fills her oxygen-starved lungs, and her head clears just a little bit.

But the shaking doesn't stop.

He's close now, so close she can hear him breathing, even over her own gasping breaths. Or she would be able to, if he were really here. Figment of her imagination, he still frightens her, leaves her body quaking at the sight of him. He poses no physical threat--how could he when he's less solid than mist?--but that's not what she's afraid of.

Bodily harm, holds nothing over the fear of the accusing look he'll level at her.

She's seen him a half a dozen times or more now and it's always the same. He's just across the room, on the other side of a window, sitting in the back of the bus and never any closer than that. But she can see his face clearly, see the accusing look, the sadness in his eyes. It's her fault he's where he is and she knows it

And he blames her.

She knows he's not really there, but that doesn't stop the guilt from washing over her every single time.

She knows, however, that as long as she refuses to open her eyes, he'll stay there; watching, waiting. On the other hand, if she would just look upon his face, acknowledge his presence, he'd leave her in peace again...for now anyway.

With a sigh of resignation, she forces her lids to rise, and looks into the face of the Doctor, this time mere inches from her own.

OOO

He pauses, just outside the last gate, turning off the engines, letting the ship float for a tic, and takes a deep, cleansing breath. This is it. Just this one more jump and Earth will finally be within sight. He's come so far, gone through so much, to see that little ball of blue and white again.

Staring at the circle of metal looming up in front of him he feels content, peaceful even. Maybe this is all he's needed, to be forced to slow down, to be unable to rush from adventure to adventure. He's had no choice but to confront his actions and feelings. And never has the future been more clear to him, more bright.

He's never been so certain of where he wants to go next, what he wants to do. The running and saving and running some more is all fine and dandy, but that's not all there is to life. And, for once, he's not afraid to face all that ever could be.

Oh, he doesn't want to stop fighting the good fight, not anytime soon anyway. But he does want to slow down a bit, stop to smell the roses...he can't help but grin at the thought. Rose. The one thing he wants more than anything else. And this time he will have her, utterly and completely without reserve. Once he talks to her that is...and that, can't exactly happen unless he takes the final step to her side.

Grin still firmly in place, he starts up the engines again, then quickly dials the final gate address. Just as he's about to fly through, thread the needle one last time, he pauses hand twitching on the controls... _Yeah, it's so worth it,_ he thinks to himself as he pushes forward.

And, as he flies through the gate, twisting and turning the ship every which way he can, he swears he hears the universe laughing with him.

OOO

Almost two months after first arriving here Jack still isn't any closer to finding a way home. The closest thing he managed to find in the vaults of Torchwood, was what looked like a cross between a toaster and curling iron. Unfortunately, it turned out to be nothing more than an advanced mail-delivery system, that couldn't send things through the void and was unable to handle matter any bigger then the size of an envelope.

Sitting in the living room at the Tyler mansion, where he and his team have been staying as houseguests, and nursing a cup of Jackie's perfect tea, Jack thinks to himself that maybe it's time. Not that he wants to give up completely, but they've been trying for so long, gone down so many dead-end streets. The constant failure, day after day, has done none of them any good and he just can't see the point in continuing the charade any longer.

They're stuck. At least for the foreseeable future, so they may as well make the best of it.

Frankly, even if they did find a way home, he's not so sure he would take it. Rose wouldn't be going, had never planned on returning to the other universe in the first place. And, with her current state of mind, there's no way Jackie or Pete would let her go now if she wanted to. As much as he misses his other life, as much as he cares about his team, he just doesn't think he could leave her here. Not now.

At one point he had thought she was beginning to heal. She was getting out of the house, going out in public with friends, acting like a normal twenty some year old. But then something changed and suddenly she started withdrawing again, spending all of her time locked up in her room. It was Jackie's confession about her discovery that really opened his eyes to just how bad things had gotten---

The ringing of the phone interrupts his thoughts. A glance at the clock on the mantel confirms that it's late. Everyone's in bed and he's been burning the midnight oil alone again. Papers are spread across the coffee table, which serves as his makeshift desk for the late night research he's been doing...though with far less frequency of late.

With a sigh, he begins pushing files out of the way, trying to find the phone that he's effectively buried. Just as he touches it though, the ringing stops. Figuring it must've been a wrong number he goes back to wallowing in self-pity.

Not even a minute later Pete comes rushing down the stairs, taking them two-at-a-time. "Jack, Torchwood. Now."

OOO

The Doctor lands in the Torchwood parking lot safely and without incident. It probably helped that he was able to get a message through before entering UK airspace but there's still a large group of Torchwood security surrounding the ship the second he steps out the doors. Luckily, Jack and Pete are both there too and, within minutes, the guards have dispersed and it's just the three of them.

Tears begin to well up in Jack's eyes, as he opens his arms wide. "I don't know how you did it, Doc, but I'm glad you did!" The hug is crushing, weeks of pent-up emotions rolling off both of them in waves.

"It's a long story," the Doctor manages to get out, finding the relief at seeing his friend overwhelming and, yet, diminished a bit by the thought of seeing someone else, someone who's presence is painfully missing. Extracting himself from Jack's arms, he turns and gives Pete's hand a firm shake, looking around superstitiously for Rose. Is she on her way? Does she even know he's back? "A story I'd rather not get into right now."

Jack watches him, and the Doctor finds that, for once, he doesn't really mind the knowing look on his friend's face. It's no secret how he feels about Rose, and if he has his way, it'll be even more obvious once they get things straightened out between them.

Pete begins updating the Doctor on the status of Earth after the Wraith left. It hasn't escaped the Doctor's notice that they're now the only ones here and no vehicles are headed their way carrying the one person he hoped would be here to greet him. He wants nothing more than to finish this conversation so he can go find her, since she obviously isn't coming to see him.

They need to talk.

But there's so much Pete and Jack want to tell him and he finds he's having a hard time getting a word in edgewise.

Jack's just about to tell him something he finds particularly amusing when his mobile starts to ring and he excuses himself, walking halfway across the lot to take the call.

"So, where'd you pick this one up?" Pete asks, motioning to the Dart.

"Pegasus galaxy," the Doctor responds distractedly. Whoever Jack is talking to, it doesn't appear the news is good and he feels a surge of unease.

"Can we keep it?" Pete asks hopefully.

The half joking manner in which the question is asked draws his attention from Jack's animated conversation and he turns to Pete with a snicker. "Well...there's a team from America--Colorado I think it was--that'll be by pick it up in the morning. So, no," he responds, grinning widely at Pete's look of disappointment which turns to surprise.

"So, they are--Rose said, but I...well, I didn't believe her..."

His heart skips a beat at the mention of the woman he's so eager to see. "Speaking of Rose..." he trails off, rubbing the back of his neck. "Where is she?"

Instead of answering him, Pete turns his head away, something has caught his attention. Following the man's gaze, the Doctor see that Jack is now running across the parking lot, a grim look on his face.

"It's Rose," Jack gasps. "She's missing."


	15. Chapter 14

**Disclaimer:** Doctor Who owns my soul, I own nothing.**  
Spoilers: **Through season three  
**Thanks To: **Snowfox3 and Sinecure for the beta

* * *

This isn't exactly the homecoming the Doctor had imagined.

He stands in the middle of the Torchwood parking lot, listening as Jack and Pete discuss Rose's disappearance, watching quietly as they volley questions back and forth like some sort of verbal tennis match.

He's not worried. Well, not much anyway. This is Rose Tyler they're talking about. The girl who faced down Daleks and Slitheen, helped save the world too many times to count, and still managed to keep a smile on her face and a laugh in her voice. She's more than capable of taking care of herself, even if she is a little jeopardy friendly.

Yes, he's curious as to where she is exactly, and he's more than a little disappointed that she's not here, but he doesn't understand why her absence is worrying Jack as much as it is.

Pete's obviously not convinced either. "It's not like she hasn't swanned off before," he says. "She could be out having drinks with Martha and Gwen for all we know."

Jack shakes his head. "Martha's on assignment in Malaysia remember? And Gwen and Owen are working."

"Mickey or Jake then...oh wait, right. Malaysia."

"Another co-worker perhaps?" the Doctor interjects, sticking his hands in his pockets.

"Rose hasn't exactly made many friends here, Doctor," Pete sounds apologetic. "She gets along with everyone just fine but never really talks to anyone outside of work."

He doesn't want to hear that. Doesn't want to think that she was hurting even a fraction of the amount that he was. He'd much rather believe that she was living the brilliant life he's always known she was capable of.

But, for some reason, it doesn't come as a surprise, not with the way she's been acting since that first day he found out she was back.

"Could she have gone for a walk?" he wonders, looking from one man to the other.

"It's nearly three in the morning, Doc," Jack's voice is laced with sarcasm as he glances at his watch. "For some reason, I doubt she decided to take a stroll."

The Doctor raises an eyebrow at his tone but before he can say anything, Pete swoops in again. "Why are you so concerned about her, Jack? She's a grown woman who can take care of herself. I've seen her overpower men more than twice her size."

Jack's eyes flash with anger. "I'm not worried about her being able to defend herself. I have complete confidence in her defense skills."

"Then what _are_ you worried about?" the Doctor asks, almost afraid of the answer. There's a haunted look in Jack's eyes and a tightness in his jaw. Suddenly, the fear that something may have gone very wrong while he was away overwhelms him.

He turns a questioning gaze to Pete, who merely shrugs. "She's been having a bit of a tough time of it lately but I thought she was sorting it out."

He's projecting an attitude of nonchalance but the Doctor can tell the concern is starting to rise up in Pete too. He has the uncomfortable feeling that there are things they aren't telling him.

"Wha--"

"Today's the anniversary." Jack's eyes widen suddenly. "I just now realized. Three years to the day since the battle at Canary Wharf."

That changes things a bit.

"Right." He swallows hard and looks around, searching for inspiration. "Here then? Torchwood? Doing paperwork she needs to finish up before some big, important board meeting tomorrow?" He looks to Pete hoping he'll remember some last minute project she had to finish before morning.

Pete shakes his head. "Doesn't mean she's not here though. I'll call security and have them check her office." Pulling out his mobile, he furiously dials the number, no longer trying to hide the fact that he's beginning to worry as much as Jack is.

She has to be here, the Doctor thinks. And, if not here, then someplace else safe...though where that could be so early in the morning he's not sure. But she is safe somewhere. He just doesn't know where yet. She is because...well, because the alternative is unthinkable. Not after he's come all this way to see her again. Not after he's finally admitted to himself just how much she means to him...

"We'll find her," Jack says, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. "I promise."

He doesn't respond, can't, even. Pete's call is coming to an end and it's obvious from the way he's frowning that it didn't go well.

"She's not at her desk, and her office is locked tight," he tells them, pocketing his phone. "I asked them to check all the surveillance cameras for the last twelve hours. At the very least, we can track her movements before she left here."

But that leaves them virtually at square one again. Tracing her with Torchwood's limited capabilities...

But he has his own way of tracing her, doesn't he? "Where's the TARDIS?"

Pete gives him a confused look, but Jack understands immediately. "Same place you left her, third floor storage room. Do you need any help?"

The Doctor doesn't respond, he's already halfway across the parking lot by the time Jack finishes his question.

OOO

Sprinting through the halls of Torchwood with an urgency born of concern, he tries not to over analyze the situation too much. No, Rose hasn't been seen since yesterday morning before heading off to work, but that doesn't mean something bad has happened to her. It's three in the morning and her bed hasn't been slept in, but that doesn't mean she's in some sort of trouble.

Skidding to a halt, he just manages to avoid plowing over some poor, befuddled lab assistant carrying a tray full of beakers. Mumbling a quick apology to the worker, he regains his balance and crosses the short distance to the lift, punching in the floor number repeatedly as though such an act will open the doors faster.

The ride in the lift is, thankfully, short and sweet. Pausing just outside the doors, he turns his head left and right, trying to get his bearings. The last time he was here, the last time he traversed these halls, he was more than a bit distracted. Not like he's doing any better now.

His concern for Rose's welfare increased substantially after Jack pointed out the date. The Doctor should've realized, should've known...but then again, how could he have?

Canary Wharf. Three years to the day. Three years since that awful day when they lost each other.

Choosing the hallway to his left, and hoping it's the right one, he starts off at a jog. He doesn't want to have another mishap like the one downstairs but he needs to get to the TARDIS. With no other leads, the only hope of finding Rose before something bad has the chance to happen lies within his ship. He can track her from there, figure out exactly where she is, and save a whole lot of time. Time Jack and Pete are wasting outside, arguing about where she could be.

Where is that room? He seems to recall Jack saying...what? Communications room, check. Then...one, two, three doors down! That's it, he realizes with a triumphant grin. Hurrying the last few feet he's running now. Then he's there and he's ripping the door open and there she is: his beautiful ship.

Pausing for just a moment, he runs his hand over the familiar wood-like facade, saying hello. There's no time for more than that though, he has far more pressing matters to deal with right now. Thankfully, he knows his ship understands. They may not be able to communicate on a level that humans can understand but there is still a connection there. A connection that imparts feelings and emotions on a slightly telepathic level.

And, right now, he feels a general sense of urgency.

With a quick flick of his wrist, he inserts his key in the lock, turns it and then flings the door open. The slight squeak that he's never seen fit to fix is music to his ears as he hurries inside. The lights in the console room are dim, almost non-existent, an energy saving function that implements whenever he is away for an extended period of time.

He whips his coat off and tosses it onto one of the coral struts surrounding the room, making his way quickly to the console. As he does so, he makes a mental request for more lights and then stops dead in his tracks.

OOO

Pete's gone home to help in the search there when Jack gets the call.

Security footage from eleven hours ago shows Rose entering the storage room where the TARDIS is and she hasn't come out since. Knowing how precarious her state of mind has been these last few weeks he's not about to take any chances.

Unsure of what the Doctor might discover when he finds Rose, Jack breaks into a run.

OOO

Finding Rose, as it turns out, is not quite as difficult as he feared. Whether or not she is actually safe, is another thing altogether.

She's slumped over on the floor, next to the jump seat. Either unaware of his presence or completely unresponsive, he can't quite tell and is, honestly, afraid to find out. She doesn't appear to be breathing, but then again, she could just be asleep.

The Doctor takes a hesitant step forward, closer to her. Her head is down, hair obscuring her face, and though he knows that he needs to reach her, he's suddenly frozen to the spot.

What if she's...

Then, suddenly, she moves. Slowly, groggily, and he knows now, revels in the knowledge, that she has merely dozed off. But his relief is short lived. The instant she raises her head, eyes aimed directly at his face, he knows something's not right.

There are large, dark circles under her tear stained eyes. She looks like she hasn't slept well, if at all, in days. But more concerning than that is the way her shirt is hanging off her shoulders as though it's a few sizes too big. She's always been fit, all that running for your life will do that to a person. But this is something else entirely. This is verging on malnourishment.

"Rose..." his voice comes out a ghostly whisper.

"Stay back," she keens.

He has no idea what's going on here, no clue what's wrong with her but there's a building concern that this isn't just about her not wanting to see him. With arms hanging limply at his sides, he begins to slowly close the distance between them. He doesn't want to frighten her, so he keeps his movements slow and precise.

"Rose."

She jumps anyway, slamming her head into the strut behind her in the process. He jerks forward, meaning to help her, to make sure she's all right, but the terror in her eyes stops him short.

"No! Get away," she screams and she's looking at him like he's some sort of a monster. Like she expects him to attack her at any moment.

He watches as she struggles to her feet and he realizes that she can't quite control her limbs properly. Lurching, stumbling, nearly falling back to the floor, she looks like a marionette whose puppet master is either completely uncoordinated or inebriated.

And that's when it hits him. The odd smell when he first entered the TARDIS, Rose's bloodshot eyes, her unkempt appearance...and now he notices the empty, glass bottles near her feet, the ones she's nearly stepped on with her bare feet twice during her animated attempt to stand.

She's the one who's drunk.

He moves in closer, reaching out a hand to help steady her, but she jerks her arm away quicker than he would have thought possible. She begins to moan, low in the back of her throat, as if she's in pain, backing away from him as quickly as she can.

"No," she whimpers. "You're not real! You're dead and you're not real and you can't touch me!"

OOO

Her head is dizzy and her body shaking, too much wine and frightening hallucinations that suddenly talk will do that to a person. Somewhere, deep in the back of her mind, she understands that this time, this him, is different. But the affects of the alcohol are too strong and all she sees, all she knows, is that she needs to escape.

Snapping her eyes from him to the door and back again--amazingly quick considering her current state--she gauges the distance, makes the decision that, if she just runs fast enough, she can out-maneuver him. The door to the TARDIS is hanging wide open, so she doesn't have to deal with that inconvenience. She'll have to give him a wide-breadth though or he'll grab her...can he grab her? He's never been more then a vaporous image before; no substance, no voice. But she heard it, heard him call her name not once, but twice. If he suddenly has vocal chords, then can he have hands for grabbing too?

She doesn't know and she doesn't want to find out.

He's moving forward again, getting closer. His face looks so real and yet, at the same time, so like the one that haunts her dreams. And it hurts, oh how it hurts! She can't do this, can't suffer through these visions anymore.

Body tense, she sidesteps away from his grasp, a graceful motion, all things considered. She doesn't even give it a second thought as she darts across the grating to the open door and freedom.

OOO

Jack arrives just in time to hear yelling and the sound of bare feet slapping against the metal grating of the TARDIS floor. Pushing the door open, he rushes inside, and straight into a hysterical Rose. She's frightened, her body a brick wall of tension slamming into his, and it's obvious, when she starts pummeling him with her fists, that she doesn't recognize him.

"Rose, it's me." He dodges the blows and grabs her by the wrists, holding her at arm's length, willing her to look at him. "It's Jack."

She stills, bloodshot eyes flitting across his face, and his gut clenches at the fear simmering inside of them. "Jack?" she gasps in surprise, hands falling to her sides.

Legs trembling, she looks as if she's about to collapse in front of him. He wraps his arms around her, pulling her tight to his chest. He's never seen her this drunk before but he has a feeling that the alcohol pumping sluggishly through her veins is not the only thing going on here. That it's not the cause of her furiously shaking body and hiccuping sobs.

"What happened?" he asks, eyes meeting the Doctor's, searching for an explanation.

Sliding his hands in his pockets, the Doctor regards Jack with a level gaze. "She's drunk. Thinks she's seeing ghosts."

Rose flinches at the sound of his voice. She turns to look over her shoulder at the Doctor while shifting her body closer to Jack. Her hitching breaths begin to trail off as wariness settles into her shoulders and steals over her face. Voice as quiet as a mouse, she confesses, "It's the Doctor." She swivels back around, an earnest look in her eyes, her fists clenching in his jumper. "He's here, behind me. But how can he be? He's dead. Right? He's dead and gone because of--because of me."

She braves another quick look over her shoulder and the tears she had just managed to stop, begin to flow freely again. "I keep--I keep seeing 'im. Everywhere I go, he's there. But he's not. Not really." Resting her head against Jack's shoulder and closing her eyes, she breathes out heavily. "He won't leave me alone, Jack. Make 'im go away."

There's a pregnant pause as Jack tries to take this in, eyes alternating between the woman in his arms and the man she seems to think is an illusion. At his confused, look the Doctor merely shrugs, exuding an air of calm. Underneath his well-practiced facade there is tension, and his face, though studiously neutral, has a look of hardness about it.

What the hell is going on here? What does Rose mean, he's following her everywhere?

And then Jack remembers all those times he's caught her looking nervously over her shoulder. The slight widening of her eyes as she stared down an empty hall, startled by nothing that he could see. The way she'd cock her head to the side as though something, some sound, had caught her attention. His questions, concerns, all brushed aside with a wave of her hand and a fake smile. Nothing, she would say. It was nothing.

But when she started to drink more regularly, more than a casual after dinner drink here, or a glass of wine there, Jack knew something was wrong. And now he knows he was right to worry. Whether she's been drinking because of the hallucinations or hallucinating because of the drinking, he's not sure.

"Oh, Rose," he whispers into her hair. "You've been seeing things these past few weeks, haven't you?" Sighing, he runs his hand down her back. "Listen, honey, you're not hallucinating now, not this time." He takes her face in his hands, leaning down to look her in the eye. "He's not dead. He made it back, Rose. He escaped from the Wraith and he's back. It's really him. The Doctor's here."

There's just the tiniest spark of hope in her eyes, hidden behind the despair and the pain and the shadows. She swallows thickly, darting glances from his face to the door behind him. "No," she insists, but her confidence is waning. "It's not really him, Jack. It never is."

"But it is him, Rose." Taking her firmly but gently by the shoulders, he turns her resistant body around to face her nightmare. "Look at him. He's really here."

The Doctor simply stands there, staring back at her for a moment, watching. A myriad of emotions churn in his dark orbs before finally settling on happiness. He holds up a hand in a wave, face breaking out into a huge grin. "Hello."

Rose whimpers, stepping back, her hand seeking Jack's. "But...but how? The...the Wraith--"

"Long story," the Doctor tells her, stepping forward a few paces, yet remaining far enough away that he isn't going to make her feel any more uncomfortable than she already is. "Plenty of time to talk about that later though. Right now...I think, maybe, we could all use some tea?"

OOO

The Doctor watches Rose as she folds trembling hands around her mug of tea, blearily looking around the TARDIS kitchen. Ever since she was confronted with his reality she's been avoiding his gaze. She doesn't seem to quite believe that she's here and he's here and it's really him. She's afraid to believe in the hope that he's here with her. He's caught her looking at him half a dozen times when she thinks he isn't paying attention, and each time her eyes have scurried away as soon as he took notice.

Jack is right beside him, watching her just as closely. Like the Doctor, he doesn't seem to want to let her out of his sight, not even for a second.

Too little, too late, the Doctor thinks, a little unkindly. Where was Jack when Rose was drinking herself into oblivion, seeing things that had obviously had her frightened out of her mind? What part of 'be there for her' didn't he understand?

"That stuff's amazing, Doc. It actually, literally reverses the affects of the alcohol?" Jack's lips curl up into a devilish smile. "Got a few team members who could use some of that stuff."

The Doctor turns to face him, watches as Jack's gaze slips back to Rose, who is now staring into her warm mug, studiously ignoring the both of them.

In the five minutes since she started drinking her tea, laced with the Staycitol the Doctor put in it, she's gone from really drunk, to just plain drunk. Five minutes from now, she'll be completely sober. And then...?

The Doctor sighs, bobbing his head back and forth as he considers Jack's question. "Yes. Well, no. It's not like she's slowly getting un-drunk. Her blood alcohol levels are already non-existent. Have been since about...oh, thirty seconds after her first sip." He rubs tiredly at the back of his neck, wondering how she'll react once she's no longer able to hide behind the booze. "She's better now," he assures Jack and reassures himself. "The alcohol in her system has been eliminated. But it happens so fast that it takes a while for her brain to catch up with her body."

And then what? Will she continue to insist that he doesn't exist? Still think him an illusion? Jack said she was just as prone to imagining things while not under the influence. Even if she does realize that he's not a figment of her imagination, will she want to see him?

A hand reaches out and grabs his, squeezing it reassuringly. "She'll be fine, Doctor. You'll be fine."

The Doctor slips his hand free of Jack's, shoving it into his pocket. He swallows hard, not daring to look in the Captain's direction, focusing instead on Rose. She's looking better already. Her hands are no longer trembling and her skin, though still a bit pale, is a more normal shade of pink. That's good. Course it is. But what about her mental health? He's still worried about how she's going to react to him once she's completely sober.

Will she scream and yell like the last time she saw him? Turn her back on him and walk away, without a backward glance? Or will her face light up, tongue poking out from between her teeth?

He knows which reaction he'd prefer. The happy one. Complete with a nice Rose Tyler hug. Is that too much to ask for? He hasn't enjoyed the warmth of her embrace in years and he's really missed it. Missed her. Her smell, her voice, her smile. The smile she--

Doesn't matter though. Not right now.

He realizes she's beginning to drift off, unable to fight off her weariness and lulled by the quiet of the TARDIS. She's only just barely staying upright in her chair and her eyes have a glazed look to them.

The Doctor's not the only one who's noticed, and before he can do so, Jack rushes to her side as she rests her head on her arms and begins to snore. "Must be tired," he smiles, running his hand down her hair.

"You think?" The Doctor glares at him incredulously. "Jack, she's exhausted."

Jack gives him a questioning look.

Nodding angrily in Rose's direction, he closes the distance between them. "You can't tell me you haven't noticed the dark circles under her eyes? Haven't noticed that she obviously hasn't been sleeping?"

Brushing Jack's hands away from her in annoyance, he mumbles, "then again, you didn't exactly do much paying attention while I was gone, now did you?"

He ignores Jack's sharp intake of breath and kneels down beside Rose. Bracing her head against his chest, he wraps one arm around her back and places the other under her legs, gently lifting her.

"What're you doing?" Jack asks.

The Doctor rolls his eyes, irritated. "She can't sleep on the table, Jack."

"Maybe I should--"

Sidestepping Jack's arms, the Doctor passes by him without a second glance. "No, Jack. I think you've done quite enough."

With a shove of his shoulder, he opens the kitchen door and enters the hallway, heading for Rose's bedroom.


	16. Chapter 15

**Disclaimer:** Doctor Who owns my soul, I own nothing.**  
Spoilers: **Through season three  
**Thanks To: **Sinecure for the beta

* * *

Her room is exactly the way she left it all those years ago. The bed's unmade, clothes are discarded in a pile by the door, makeup is strewn across the vanity. And there's the unmistakable smell of Rose just beneath the musty odor of a room so long left undisturbed.

The Doctor used to spend a lot of time in here. Well, not actually in here, as he never really had the nerve to enter fully. He'd stand in the doorway, toes just pushing past the threshold, eyes sweeping the room, searching for the ghost of her presence.

It was a nightly ritual: come stand outside her room for an hour or two and immerse himself in what little he had left of her.

For nearly a year, he had done this, made it part of his routine. At the close of every adventure and non-adventure, he'd come here and remember. Even after Martha showed up, even though he knew it made her uncomfortable, he refused to give up this one comfort in a universef gone cold. It wasn't until running into the Cult of Skaro in 1930's New York that he finally stopped.

Seeing them again, knowing that some of them had survived...it was just too much for him. After everything, after every attempt at their destruction (the Time War, Satellite Five, Canary Wharf), they wouldn't die. They just kept coming back, planning and scheming, holding onto life, while he suffers. They lose nothing and he loses everything.

He lost the woman he loves, forever.

Although, not forever, he thinks to himself, smiling down at the peacefully sleeping form in his arms. Because by some miracle, he got her back. He wonders if maybe, just maybe, all those years ago, she knew this. That somehow, through some gut instinct, Rose knew they would always be together.

"_You know what - they keep trying to split us up, but they never ever will."_

He didn't believe her back then, thought it was just a young woman's wishful thinking. But now he knows she was right. Because now that he has her back, he will do anything and everything within his power to keep her by his side.

He crosses the room and pauses alongside her bed. He doesn't want to lose this contact with her, but he still has to deal with Jack. And, even though the Doctor rarely needs sleep, he feels a draining weariness in his bones. With the utmost care, he leans down and gently lays her within the comfort of Rose duvet and the multiple pillows she always insisted on using. She's fully clothed but he doesn't feel comfortable undressing her, so he settles for tucking her in, making sure she's as comfortable as possible.

He really should go now, but he just can't bear the thought of being away from her again, even if it's just a few corridors away. She's here and she's safe, and he's with her and they're together, against all the odds. All that time on the Wraith ship, thinking he'd never see her again...and, yet, here he is with Rose. His Rose. The girl he is so deeply in love with that he's willing to toss aside all his former rules and boundaries just to be with her. He's going to fix things, he'd promised himself that on the Dart. That he would take the plunge, brave unknown waters, just to be with her. And he's not about to let her go now.

It only takes a moment to make the decision to stay a little longer.

Toeing off his chucks, he gently sits on the bed with her. If she were to wake up right now, the situation would be awkward, so he holds himself still, just looking at her. The urge to touch her is so strong, he has to bunch his hands in his coat pockets to keep from reaching out to her.

Contenting himself with merely watching the rise and fall of her chest, he slowly slides down into a laying position and lets his eyes trace the contours of her face.

Twenty minutes later, he wakes to a dead weight lying halfway across his chest and something tickling at his nose. Brushing the annoyance aside, he opens his eyes and sees soft blond hair. His arms are wrapped tightly around her and she's warm and soft and feels so good pressed up against him that he can feel his body beginning to respond to her.

Whether she snuggled up next to him first or he drew her into his embrace, he's not sure, but he doesn't much care either. It feels so good to hold her like this, hold her like he's never done before. Never dared. Yes, there were always lots of hugs between them, always hugs. But this is different...more intimate. He can feel her every curve molded along the lines of his body. Can feel--

Gently extracting himself, he rolls her over onto her back and looks at her, really looks.

It was obvious, back in the console room, that she had lost some weight. Her shirt was hanging off her body, her trousers looking like, with one false move, they might just slide off her hips. But he didn't really understand, wasn't paying enough attention, to just how thin she'd become. Just now though, with her tangled up in his embrace, he could feel the gauntness of her body, the bony protrusions jabbing him in the sides.

She felt as though she would slip from his grasp at any moment.

Reaching into his pocket, he pulls out the sonic screwdriver and slowly scans her body. The results are not surprising and, yet, shocking. It's obvious that she hasn't been eating well for weeks. That combined with the drinking and too little sleep, has left her body weakened and stressed. It's a wonder she's managed to get up every morning and go to work.

Throw in the frightening hallucinations she's been suffering through and he can't even begin to imagine how hard it's been on her. Doesn't want to think about it either. And no one, not a single person here has tried to help, tried to save her.

He can feel rage beginning to build in the pit of his stomach.

OOO

Jack is waiting for him in the console room. He knows there are things they need to discuss, things the Doctor needs to get off his chest. Frankly, Jack has a few issues of his own he wants to bring up. So he's more then ready. Ready for the accusations and blame that he is sure the Doctor is going to level at him.

It isn't as if he's the only one that could've stopped Rose's downward spiral, though he does know he's played his part in it. But, in his defense, he didn't even know about the drinking until Jackie approached him a few weeks ago. He's been busy. Busy trying to find a way home and keep his team together. Busy trying to make the best out of a bad situation.

And he was grieving in his own way as well. Rose wasn't the only one who felt the impact of the loss of the Doctor.

Even still, there's a tight knot of guilt that's been eating away at him since before the Doctor sacrificed himself in a fit of hopelessness. Truth is, Jack knows that everything, all the horrible things that have happened to his friends of late, might've been prevented...if only he'd made wiser decisions. If he'd just tried that little bit harder to convince Rose to talk to the Doctor, instead of helping her hide away at Torchwood with him.

If he's being completely honest, he knows on some deeper level, he didn't want her leave. He had wanted to keep her for himself. One can only stand so much loneliness, and in Rose, he'd found the kindred spirit he never would've thought possible.

So when the Doctor comes in, eyes flashing in anger, jaw set, Jack doesn't even flinch.

They stand there in silence, the physical distance between them nothing compared to the distance their friendship is suffering. Jack speaks up first, needing to get something out on the table before the Doctor starts laying into him. "I'm sorry it got this out of hand."

A dark chuckle escapes the Doctor's lips. "Sorry for what, Jack?" He crosses the room slowly. "Sorry you weren't there for her like you promised you would be? Or sorry I found out?" He stops on the other side of the console.

"Doc--"

"No, don't Doc me," his voice is calm, but Jack senses the fury underneath his cool exterior. "We discussed this before. Do you remember? I told you she needed you, needed your friendship. And you let her down."

Jack is stung by the truth in the Doctor's words.

"And you knew," the Doctor continues, "you knew she was suffering. Knew all about the lack of sleep and not eating and drinking herself into nothingness. You knew, Jack, and yet you still didn't stop her!" His voice is rising, becoming brutal. "Did you even bother trying?"

Jack flinches at the question, knowing the Doctor is right; he didn't try hard enough. Words spill out before he can stop himself, "I didn't know what to do! She was so far gone--"

The Doctor slammed his fist into the console, eyes dark with contempt. "That's no excuse. What if something had happened? Something worse than this? What if she had hurt herself?"

He shakes his head. "It wouldn't have mattered even if she--" Realizing what he's saying, Jack cuts himself off, though the words are already out there and he can't take them back now.

The Doctor's eyes sharpen on him. "You have five minutes." The vein in his neck is straining, pulsing just underneath the skin in tempo to the erratic beating of his hearts. The sight and sound is so frightening, it reminds Jack of another rhythm, another beat, another Time Lord who, not too long ago, destroyed the world. "Five minutes to say goodbye after she wakes up. I'll be watching."

OOO

She wakes slowly, languidly, her body feeling more rested than it has in weeks. Stretching with a contentment that she's forgotten she is even capable of feeling anymore, she opens her eyes and sees the lines and designs of a very familiar ceiling. If there was any doubt that what she thought was a dream had really happened, it's extinguished the instant she looks upon the comforting confines of the TARDIS. The second she recognizes the consoling hum of the time rotor.

Fisting her hands in the downy duvet, she tries to dredge up the memories of last night. Some of it is still fresh in her mind; the date, drinking herself into oblivion, dozing off on the floor near the console. The rest she remembers too, but the images aren't as clear in her mind. There's an...an unreal quality to them like a photograph blurred by water. She can decipher who's in the snapshot, can even see what they're doing, but the feelings and emotions that should be so apparent on their faces are distorted.

Eyes scrunched tight, she tries to figure out what all of it means. The Doctor, really there, really here, smiling at her.

Smiling? After all she's done, after all the hurt she inflicted upon him, he can still find it in himself to smile at her?

And then there was funny tasting tea and him and Jack watching over her like...like they thought she was going to shatter before their very eyes. She knows at some point she passed out, the exhaustion of weeks on edge and too much drinking finally taking their toll on her weakened body. But that was in the kitchen. This is...

Her eyes pop open as she jerks her body up into a sitting position. Her room. Her room on the TARDIS. This is...but that's--that's--

"He kept it, all this time." The voice sneaks up on her from a shadowed corner of the room.

She can't see whom it belongs to, the darkness there is too thick and her eyes are still sticky with sleep, but she knows the owner. "I asked him about it once, about a year after you..." there's a pause and she can hear Jack take a few deep breaths. "I asked him about it and he said that he made the mistake of letting go of you once and that he couldn't bear to get rid of everything that reminded him of you."

There's a lump in her throat and her vision blurs a little bit more. Looking around the room slowly, she gives herself time to take it all in. And what she sees frightens and amazes her all at the same time. It's exactly the same as the day she left. There isn't a dirty sock out of place or a vase of flowers two centimeters off on her vanity.

She should know. She's kept her images of this place crisp and clear in her mind, refusing to let any detail of her home--or the alien who piloted it--fade.

That was her though; she was supposed to be that upset. But the idea of the Doctor keeping her room like a shrine? That was dark and obsessive.

"You never did realize just how much you meant..._mean_ to him." Jack is standing now, moving across the room and into the light spilling across the floor as the brutal truth of what is staring her right in the face makes her heart clench.

He saved all this. Kept it, planned on keeping it forever, just so that he could be reminded of her. Silly human ape with a penchant for trouble. He left her room the way that it was because she meant...she means...she...

Eyes widening in shock, she turns to face Jack, who's now standing beside her bed. "Jack--"

Shoving his hands in his pockets, he gives her a level gaze. "I tried to explain it to you before, Rose. I have never seen a man more infatuated, more _in love_, with someone than the Doctor is with you." There's something in his eyes, something in his expression, that leaves a bitter taste in her mouth. She shifts her weight on the bed, meaning to reach out and offer him comfort, but he steps back. "And after you left...he was a mess. Martha saw it. Donna did too, though she was only with him for a short time. But that was right after..." he pauses again, eyes downcast. "That was right after he lost you."

Seizing the opportunity that his avoidance gives her, Rose scrambles off the bed, rushing to his side. "Jack, what is it? What's wrong?" she asks, cupping his cheek in the palm of her hand. They've always been close, her and Jack. Not nearly as close as she was with the Doctor but she doubts that's something that's even possible. Working side by side at Torchwood together, sharing in the pain of past mistakes and the despair of futures that hold nothing only cemented that bond even more.

"Oh, Rose," he whispers, leaning into her touch for a brief moment. Then his eyes dart behind her shoulder and he's pulling back, and she can feel the hairs on the back of her neck standing on end.

"I think it's time you leave, Jack." She didn't even hear him come in, didn't hear the door open or anything. She does however hear the anger simmering in his voice, threatening to boil over at any minute. "Rose and I need to talk."


	17. Chapter 16

**Disclaimer:** Doctor Who owns my soul, I own nothing.**  
Spoilers: **Through season three  
**Thanks To: **Sinecure for the beta

* * *

When Rose turns to him, tears brimming in her eyes and a trembling smile ghosting over her face, it takes his breath away.

There's a whole room, complete with bed and Jack, separating the two of them, but all the Doctor can see is her. Nothing else matters, none of it. All the whispers of deep, dark secrets and horrible mistakes are drowned out by the pounding of his hearts when she takes that first tentative step towards him.

Then, suddenly, she stops, the look of elation on her face falters, replaced with one of uncertainty. He knows, can see it in her eyes, that she's unsure if, after everything that's happened, she's still welcome here, with him. He can't blame her for feeling that way, after the things she's said, the things he's done.

They've both been through so much just to get here, to this point.

He's probably not helping matters any, either, coming in more concerned with his anger at Jack than his excitement at seeing her again. He's holding himself back, worried about her reaction to his presence and burying himself in ridiculous matters that aren't all that important after all.

So he gives her what she needs, what he's been wanting to do since he first made it back to Earth: he lets his face split into its biggest Rose-only grin and that's all it takes to get her moving again.

The impact of her body colliding with his makes him sway on his feet, but he's had plenty of experience with her jump-in-his-arms hugs and he manages to keep both of them upright. Wrapping his arms around her waist and gripping tightly, his fingers dig into the material of her shirt. Even a fleet of Dalek ships couldn't rip him away from her right now, and he has a feeling she's thinking the same thing.

Her arms are twined around him, fingers tangling deeply in the strands of hair at the nape of his neck. It feels so good to hold her again, to be held by her. Her soft body pressed against his, her face buried in the crook of his neck, warm breath ghosting over his skin. It's just like old times again and it's almost as though he's seeing her for the very first time since Bad Wolf Bay.

Without letting her go--because he is never, ever going to do that again--he draws back to rest his forehead against hers. "Missed you," he whispers.

She laughs, that beautiful, musical laugh that makes his hearts sing, as tears trail down her cheeks. "Missed you too," she breathes. Then she buries her head in his shoulder, pulling him in so close he feels as if she's trying to burrow into him.

A desire he understands completely.

There's a soft click behind him as the bedroom door closes, reminding him that they hadn't been alone. His arms tighten around Rose, knowing that all of this almost didn't happen, all because of Jack. That, because of the man's irresponsible behavior, the Doctor could've lost her forever.

Despite his obvious disagreement with the action, she pulls back slightly, her attention now focused on the door. "Jack?" she says hopefully, but then sighs at the sight of the empty room.

He can't help but feel a small amount of pleasure that she, too, forgot all about the Captain.

She's untangling herself from his embrace and he's yearns for the feel of her the instant they're separated. Hiding a groan of disappointment, he watches her reach for the doorknob, knowing that she intends to go after Jack, something he cannot let happen.

Now is their time, his and Rose's, and he isn't going to let anyone steal that away from them.

Quick as can be, he covers her hand with his own, holding it in place. "No, Rose. Let him go." The shiver that runs through her is almost instantaneous, and he wonders if he caused that, if he's actually able to affect her that easily. "It's not important. This, however," he grabs her chin with soft, insistent fingers, turning her head until she's facing him. "Us. Me and you. That's what's important."

Her eyes widen just a tiniest bit and he thinks he may have surprised her with his touch. She isn't used to this sort of intimacy between them, but that's all right, because, if he has his way, there'll be a lot more in the future.

Just not right now apparently.

"I shouldn't have ignored him like that," she says, slowly drawing away from the Doctor and regaining her composure. "I've been treating him like rubbish lately. Been treating a lot of people like rubbish, actually." Her eyes dart quickly to his before she drops her gaze to the floor.

He can't deny it, won't deny it, because he's seen the way she's been acting towards the people around her, even those she loves. Even him. He's been on the receiving end of just such treatment himself quite a bit lately. With her finally on speaking terms with him again though, maybe he can finally get down to the reasons behind the abrupt change in her behavior.

"Why is that?" he asks, his voice carefully free of accusation or blame, as he tightens his hand around hers.

"I haven't exactly been myself lately," she says with a wry chuckle.

His lips turn up in a rueful smile. "I had noticed that, yeah."

She doesn't respond, just takes a deep breath and continues to avoid his gaze. He needs her to look at him, needs her to see that he's not angry, that he's just worried. Her eyes, however, are everywhere else but where he wants them to be. She's alternating between the floor, their hands, the wall behind him, and it's so frustrating that she won't look at him.

"Rose, talk to me. Please."

She swallows thickly, brows dipping into a frown and he can see her closing herself off from him. She's playing the avoidance game he taught her so well, the one he's done playing himself now. He's put away his pawn, closed the board on that particular part of his life, and he's not about to let her go on fighting a battle where there's no hope for a winner.

His fingers lift her chin, forcing her to look at him again, forcing her to confront this head on. "Rose."

She gives a small, jerky nod and draws away from his hand, nervously tucking her lank hair behind her ear. "Okay." The word is barely more than a whisper and he has to strain to hear it, but he feels a hard won sense of victory.

Squeezing her hand again, he draws her over to the bed, pulling her down beside him. "How long have you been hallucinating?"

She swallows before raising her head to look him in the eye and he's struck by the exhaustion he sees there. "A few weeks. The first time was at a chip shop."

Cupping her cheek in the palm of his hand, feeling the warmth seeping from her skin to his, he holds her gaze steady with his own. "Tell me about them?"

She takes a deep, shuddering breath. "They started off...well, I figured it was nothing at first. Jus' wishful thinking, ya know? Or maybe mistaken identity. A pinstriped arm or a pair of trainers, a noise that sounded like the sonic screwdriver... stupid," she scoffs quietly, rolling her eyes.

He brushes his thumb gently across her cheek, not liking the way she's dismissing herself like that. "Stress can play tricks with the mind. It's a completely understandable reaction." He smiles fondly at her, hoping for something, some spark of the happiness she was so recently feeling. It's obvious she puts in the effort, but only just barely manages a slight upturning of her lips. "Rose, it's the brain's way of dealing with all the extra stress that you can't get rid of in other ways." Tapping a finger against her forehead, he smiles wider. "Human minds can be a wonderful or frightening place."

She nods briefly in understanding, leaning into his touch. "But it got worse. I started seeing--I started seeing your face. Staring at me like...like you were waiting for something. Like you wanted something from me." As she starts to relive the memories, her voice begins to shake and he can see the fear in her eyes. "It was so real..."

"I'm sure it felt that way. Hallucinations can be very powerful things." He squeezes her hand, trying to reassure her, to let her know that she's safe now. He's here and he isn't going to let anything happen to her. Almost as an afterthought--though not really since this is the other concern that has been haunting him--he continues, "Even more so when drugs or alcohol are involved."

"No," she shakes her head adamantly, forcefully. "I didn't...I didn't start-- the drinking was to get rid of the hallucinations." She clenches her free hand in her lap. "To make them stop."

That...well, that definitely changes things a bit. "You drank because of the hallucinations, not the other way around?"

She bites her thumbnail nervously. "Yeah."

He mulls this new bit of information around in his mind, letting the importance of it slowly sink in. Rose has never been anything if not a strong, stubborn young woman, and the thought of her turning to alcohol to deal with something she couldn't handle doesn't sit well with him.

But neither does the thought that she was hallucinating for no reason other than stress.

If she was having these visions of him, visions that were real enough to scare her that badly, and there was no alcohol in her system causing them, then she's either been more stressed than he thought or something else was going on here. "Did you come into contact with any alien races shortly before it started happening?"

"No," she scoffs, shaking her head again. "Pete's got me on desk duty for the rest of my life."

The Doctor, for one, is grateful for that. An inebriated Rose running around dealing with alien forces is...is a nightmare in the making. He keeps that particular opinion to himself though, seeing as she's obviously quite bitter about the situation. "Did you work with, or around, any alien devices?"

She chuckles. "I work for Torchwood, Doctor. There're alien devices everywhere. And Jack's always bringing home some gadget or another to see if it can get him and the rest of his team back to the other universe."

It doesn't surprise him that Jack would be so stupid as to bring potentially dangerous items home. It's bad enough that these humans have access to such things, but to bring them out of the relative safety of Torchwood...that's just plain irresponsible.

When had Jack become so self-involved and uncaring about the safety of others?

But that is neither here nor there at the moment. Returning to the conversation at hand, he lets his eyes wander over Rose, taking note once more of how thin she is and how tired and unhealthy she has become. He scratches the back of his head, thinking about the problem "Anything in particular Jack was working with just before you saw me?"

"I don't know." She shrugs her shoulders. "There were so many of them, and I wasn't exactly..." she trails off with a sigh. Meeting his eyes she continues, "I haven't been spending much time with Jack. Or anyone else for that matter." Her voice cracks and the Doctor's hearts break just a little at the loneliness he sees mirrored in her expression

An all-too-familiar loneliness.

Alien influence forgotten for the moment, he stares into her eyes and sees the pain there, pain that she has been dealing with for far too long. "You were hurting," he tells her softly, feeling the words touch a certain part of himself that identifies with them too.

"Yeah," she sniffs, trying to fight back the tears that are threatening to break loose. "I--" she stops and takes a deep breath. "I missed you." She's crying again, and it's so reminiscent of that day on the beach that his hearts clench at the sight. "It was three years ago today that--"

"I know," he whispers, and with tender fingers, he brushes back the hair that has fallen into her eyes, feels that pain with her. Three years ago, both their lives were changed forever, and in some ways, ended. Oh, he'd managed to go on, but the light in his life was diminished greatly by the loss of Rose.

He can only imagine it was the same for her.

No longer trying to hold back the torrent of tears, she turns to him, fisting her hands in his shirt. "And then I got back to you, but I couldn't...Jack said that--" she's swallowing thickly, biting back the words that he can see she isn't ready to share just yet. "I was so angry, Doctor, I thought...but then there you were and I was scared and I couldn't tell you why. But it didn't matter anymore because the Wraith and--and you were gone and I thought you were dead and I was never going to see you again." Huge, shuddering sobs wrack her body.

"Oh, Rose," he grasps her by the shoulders, holding her gaze with his own. "I'm sorry. I don't understand everything you've been through, but know this: I will always come back to you while I'm able. Always," he finishes with fierce determination, pulling her into his embrace. "For as long as you want me to."

Smoothing her hair with his hand, he makes shushing noises that he knows she can't hear, but make him feel better nevertheless.

If he had known...even not knowing he can't help but feel he should've done something. He could've tried to talk to her, forced her to tell him what was happening that was so horrible that she couldn't even bear to see him. Instead he'd simply closed himself off, like he always does when the threat of emotions gets too close. If he had tried though--well, it didn't mean things would've ended any differently, did it, because they still would've had to fight the Wraith, and though he knows he would've fought harder to stay by her side...

The truth of the matter is, he gave up. Once before, the thought of not having her in his life was enough to push him to the edge. And if it hadn't been for the interference of a lone Dalek, the Doctor would've died with open arms that day in New York.

An odd sort of vibration against his side rips him from those memories of so long ago and it takes him a second to figure out what it is. "Rose," he mumbles into her hair, not wanting to release her. "I think your--"

With a certain amount of reluctance, she pulls away from him and digs around in her pocket. "It's mum," she sighs, glancing at her mobile. "I should probably answer."

Breaking free of her grip on him, he stands and moves across the room. He's not willing to leave her side, not yet, not even to give her the privacy she deserves. Jackie knows Rose is safe and sound within the TARDIS, he made certain of that, but she's probably worried nonetheless. After hearing first hand what Rose has gone through, he's more than a little concerned himself.

He's not entirely convinced the hallucinations weren't being caused by an alien influence of some sort. She may not have had any direct contact with anything other than loads of paperwork over the last few months, but that doesn't mean that something hasn't affected her. The only way to be sure is to check for any sort of anomalous readings, but he hadn't seen anything unusual when he scanned her before, so that leaves him back at square one again.

"You'd think I was still two, the way she acts," Rose chuckles, rolling her eyes and pocketing her mobile again.

"She's worried about you, and rightly so." He returns to his spot on the bed next to her, draping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her close. "Maybe it wouldn't be such a bad idea to bring you home for a bit. To reassure her."

She nods slightly before resting her head on his chest. "I suppose I could use a shower and change of clothes." She pauses, making no move to get up, to break contact with him. "Would you come with--"

"Oh, I'm not letting you out of my sight anytime soon, Rose Tyler."


	18. Chapter 17

**Disclaimer:** Doctor Who owns my soul, I own nothing.**  
Spoilers: **Through season three  
**Thanks To: **Sinecure for the beta

* * *

It crosses his mind more than once while he's setting the coordinates that maybe, agreeing to bring Rose back home to her mum was not his brightest idea of late. Jackie deserves to see that her daughter is all right, deserves to ascertain her safety with her own eyes, but he's not quite ready to share Rose with anyone just yet.

That and there are still so many things they need to discuss. So many things they need to work out before jumping back into their old life together...if she even wants that anymore. He hopes she does, thinks she does, what with all the hand holding they just engaged in. But he's never been very good at reading humans and their emotions and he doesn't want to make the mistake of assuming.

At least they're being civil to each other now. No, more than that, they're talking and things seem to be going well between them. As the TARDIS rematerializes, he glances at Rose, and his heart skips a beat to see her standing there...here, with him, in his beloved ship once again. It's almost like it used to be, something, a short while ago he would've thought fell under the category of impossible.

Perhaps, it's time he remove that particular word from his vocabulary, at least when it comes to him and Rose.

They've managed so many times to make the impossible possible, finding their way back to each other despite insurmountable odds. Impossible planets and rockets at 10 Downing Street, his escape from the Wraith and her finding a way to cross the void to the universe of her birth.

"How'd you do it?" he asks her abruptly, halting her halfway down the ramp to the door. He has so many questions, questions that have been whirling around in his head since he first saw her back at Torchwood, Jack's Torchwood. This is the first real opportunity he's had to ask her them and he thinks that, after all this time, he deserves answers.

She watches him, one hand on the railing, the other by her side, looking completely at home standing there. Looking like she belongs here, which, in his eyes, she does.

Her brow furrows in uncertainty. "Do what?"

Joining her by the doors, he keeps his hands buried deep in his pockets, the only way he can stop himself from reaching out and touching her. "Get back to the right universe. How'd you do it? It should've been impossible. Still should be impossible, yet, here we are."

He watches as her expression goes from happily content to carefully neutral in zero-point-two seconds, and he thinks it must be a record. "There was a rip, and a bridge, that's what Mickey called it anyway," she replies without hesitation, "and Torchwood still has the hoppers."

The way she's looking at him, so calm and collected, almost like a trained reaction, he wonders how long she's been waiting for him to bring this up. It's not like he didn't want to sooner but things kept cropping up, preventing him from having this conversation with her. Her attitude toward him, his own hurt and anger, the Wraith, all of it kept him sufficiently distracted and just a bit busy, but not anymore. She's safe now, Pete's Earth is safe, and, after all the hugging and snuggling, he knows, despite any hurdles they may face along the way, there is still hope for them yet.

Right now he needs answers, needs to understand what happened. Like how there could possibly be a bridge--not just a rip, but a bridge as well--between the universes when he's the only Time Lord left in existence. "That's impossible." He shakes his head. "There can't be a bridge...can't even be a gap. I fixed all of them. You were there when the last one closed."

She shrugs, dismissing his words as if he weren't the expert on these matters. "Maybe you missed one."

"No," he insists, ignoring the look in her eyes, the one that's telling him not to push the matter. "I wouldn't have missed something this important." Why does she suddenly seem so reluctant to discuss this? What exactly is she hiding from him?

She shifts her gaze towards the door, away from him. "Well, then maybe a new one formed." Shrugging again, she starts down the ramp, obviously feeling the matter's closed. "I hardly see how it matters--"

"It matters," he insists roughly, "because two worlds could've collapsed." Grabbing her by the arm, he jerks her around to face him. Something about the way she's acting...she's not being completely honest with him. "Did you do this? You and your bloody Torchwood?"

Her eyes narrow, her mouth tightening into a thin, angry line. "No, Doctor. Why would I?" her voice is clipped and harsh; it's the situation with the Wraith all over again, only this time, it's all his fault. "You wouldn't risk destroying two universe's jus' to get back to me. Why would I do the same for you?"

He blinks once, twice, the underlying hurt in her words, giving him pause. She can't have meant that she wanted him to risk it, could she?

Before he can ask, she's shaking her head and her voice softens, "I didn't--" She takes a deep breath. "I didn't mean it like that." Her eyes are pleading with him, begging him to accept what she's saying, to understand how she feels. "I don't wanna fight with you anymore."

Now that, he understands. Releasing his grip on her arm, he realizes that he must've been holding her tighter than he thought. There's a slight pinking to her flesh and he runs an apologetic thumb over the sore spot. "I...I'm sorry."

Lowering her gaze from his, she gently removes her arm from his grasp, rubbing at the mark. "Don't worry about it. It was an accident," she says, giving him a quick smile before continuing down the ramp and out the door.

The trust thing is going to take awhile to figure out, he thinks with a sigh. Following behind her, he steps outside of the TARDIS and looks around, finding himself standing, not in front of the Tyler mansion like he figured, but inside of it. "Oh," he exclaims, more than a little startled, when he realizes where they are.

The room is spacious, nothing like her old one on the Powell Estates. It's well decorated with expensive looking furniture scattered about, and a convenient en suite opposite the bed. It's not exactly her style but he's already seen just how much the woman standing before him has changed since they last knew each other. The only thing that seems to have remained the same is her scent of preference.

Inhaling deeply through his nose, he lets the aroma of Rose surround him: fresh vanilla, with the slightest hint of honey. Oh, how he's missed that, how he's missed her. His eyelids flutter closed for the briefest of moments and when he opens them again he finds her watching him, a bemused look on her face.

He sticks his fists in his pockets and snaps his gaze from her, taking another, unnecessary, look around the room, as though he's seeing it for the first time. Trying not to shuffle his feet or mumble he asks, "Your ah...your room?"

"Yeah, ta." She grins wickedly before crossing to a large, wooden dresser. "Gonna shower quick. Meet me downstairs? I'll only be a mo."

Standing there, not really sure what to do with himself, he watches as she pulls out a few articles of clothing--including a pair of lacy knickers, he realizes with a start--then turns to lay them on the bed. "I'll just, ah..." and now he _is_ mumbling and shuffling his feet. Waving his hand in the general direction of the door, he walks as casually as he can in that direction.

"Had one of those visions here too," she says absentmindedly.

Startled, he turns back to her and sees her gaze settling on the pile of pillows by the headboard as her fingers caress the pale pink duvet. "Strongest one," she adds, almost to herself, then shrugs and looks at him briefly, before her eyes slide past him and focus on the bathroom door.

He opens his mouth to ask her about it, but before he can, she raises and lowers her shoulders, shaking the feeling off like she's shrugging off a jacket. "Tell mum I'll be down in a tic, yeah?" she says quickly, as hurries past him and into the bathroom.

Staring at the closed door, he waits until he hears the water running in the shower and then pulls out the sonic screwdriver. He can't brush it off as easily as she just did. If there is an alien influence involved in these hallucinations, he may be able to find some trace of it here. Especially if the worst of them occurred in this room.

Starting where he's standing seems as good a place as any, so, taking his time, he slowly makes his way around the room, watching for any unusual readings. It takes a bit to cover the whole room, and when he finally picks it up, it's so faint that he almost passes it over as leftover residue from her working around alien tech, but he doesn't. When the readings get stronger the closer he gets to her bed, he knows he's hit on something.

They seem to be focused somewhere around the left side of the bed, right where--if she's like any other human he's ever met and she prefers one side of the bed over the other--she probably sleeps every night. There's something familiar about the energy, something he feels he should recognize, but he can't quite place.

The tickle in the back of his mind gets even stronger as he leans over the bed, trying to get a fix on what is causing the readings. If he could just...

There's the sudden feeling that he's no longer alone. The hairs on the nape of his neck stand on end and he can hear the distinct sound of a sudden intake of breath. He stills his breathing, slowly straightens up, and peers around the room, looking for the source of his unease.

Moving away from the bed, turning this way and that, seeking out what could be hidden from his sight in the shadows behind the furniture, serves nothing more than to confirm what he already suspects: there's nothing there. He's completely alone. Scratching at the back of his neck, he begins to pace.

There was something, he's sure of it. Something that was there, but not quite there. Something...almost a whisper, a ghost of a presence. Like a...no, that doesn't fit. Gelth? No, that can't be it either.

Continuing to pace, hand occasionally rising unconsciously to ruffle through his hair, he tries to unravel the ever-deepening mystery of what's been happening to Rose. Because he's certain of one thing: that the two incidents are related. They have to be. It's far too much of a coincidence for his taste for her to be hallucinating and him to feel a presence in her room that's not there.

He's so lost in thought, that he's still at it twenty minutes later when he runs smack dab into Rose. She's freshly showered, still dripping wet and wearing nothing but a towel. This time he knows exactly where the gasp comes from.

His eyes lock on hers, and he finds he can't look away, doesn't want to look away, especially when the surprised gaze turns warm and welcoming, a soft smile dancing across her mouth. He can feel the heat radiating off her skin, see the steam drifting around her like morning fog clinging to the ground. Never, in all the time that he's known Rose, has he ever been this aware of her body in relation to his own, and they've been far closer than this in the past.

Something's changed between them. Or, at least, something's changed in him.

He finds he wants nothing more than to lean down just the few inches separating them and kiss her. But its more than a want, it's a need. A deep, aching need in the pit of his stomach, with a grip of steel that isn't about to let go.

For the first time in their relationship, he's figuring out just how strong his feelings for her are, how strong they've always been. He's wasted so much of their time together avoiding it because of stupid Time Lord laws that don't even matter, and he realizes, he doesn't want to pretend anymore. No longer satisfied with the way things are, the way they've been, he wants more. And that more is standing next to him, naked but for a towel, drops of water sliding down her smooth skin.

Unsure of what her reaction will be, but deciding to take the plunge and wear his hearts on his sleeve for once, he tilts his head until he can feel their breath mingling, holding her gaze with his. Before he can second-guess himself, he raises his hand, tangling his fingers in the wet strands of her hair, and dips his mouth down to hers. The kiss is soft and gentle at first, but when she responds with a sigh, his need is becomes stronger, and it quickly changes to something far more.

His lips move over hers with an urgency he's never felt before, fueling the fire he can feel building inside of him, as he takes something from her he hadn't even realized until now that he'd been missing.

OOO

His lips are cool and soft as they move over hers. Gentle at first, they quickly become slightly demanding, surprising her with the passion behind them. He feels just like she remembers from Cassandra's kiss, only this is all her, and it makes all the difference in the world. This, she thinks, is what she was always meant to be doing. Kissing the Doctor, molding her lips to his, feeling his tongue press into her mouth, caressing the inside of it.

She doesn't ever want to stop.

Leaning into his touch, aware of his other arm wrapping around her and pulling her closer, she feels all the tension, all the stress just melt away. She reaches up, threading her fingers through his hair, holding his head in place.

She doesn't want to let go.

One arm trapped between their bodies, she can feel his hearts beating and she doesn't think they've ever galloped quite so fast before. They're pounding nearly as fast as hers is and she feels a thrill go through her, a shiver run up her spine, that she's affecting him this much.

The kiss is hurried and rushed, yet slow and sensual. It's caressing and exploring, mapping out every last corner of her mouth and his. It's learning each other and tasting each other, and he tastes like tea and bananas. Not exactly an unexpected combination, but it's all him and he tastes wonderful.

Craving more contact, craving his body pressed tight against hers, she tries to pull her arm out from between them, forgetting entirely about the towel and its precarious position around her chest, protecting her modesty. By the time she remembers, it's too late and the sudden rush of cold air on warm skin elicits a sudden, sharp intake of breath.

The Doctor tears his lips from hers and gives her a questioning look, then notices her sudden nakedness and takes two abrupt steps backward. "Oh," he says in a squeak, face turning red and eyes quickly dropping to the floor.

She can feel the tinge of her own embarrassment stain her cheeks as she reaches down to pluck the towel off the floor. Though it was a bit unexpected, she can't say the thought had never crossed her mind...especially just now, with their tongues locked in that infinite dance of passion. But he's obviously not ready to take that step, she thinks, watching him flitting his eyes over every available object in the room except her, muttering unintelligibly under his breath.

Grinning in spite of herself--it's alright if he's not ready to cross that line just yet, she can wait--she quickly wraps the towel around the source of his nervousness and secures it firmly in place. When she clears her throat to signal the all clear he doesn't respond, and she notices that, in the space of time it took her to cover herself up, his eyes glazed over, like they do when something particularly brilliant has come to him. His mumblings have taken on a less random tone, and become more focused, though she doesn't understand any of what he's saying.

"Doctor?"

He jerks his head up and looks at her in surprise, as if he had forgotten she was even there. "That's it," he exclaims, finally focusing on her, his face slowly splitting into a grin, giving her his mega-watt, I-just-figured-it-out smile.

"What's 'it'?" she asks, humoring him. When he's done, when he's figured it all out, he'll share whatever it is that's so fascinating it can keep him from kissing her again. And then she'll return the favor and snog that brilliant mouth of his senseless.

"It wasn't...what exactly did you see, Rose?" He shortens the gap between them. "The hallucination here. The strong one. What did you see?"

Feeling an uncomfortable weight settle back over her shoulders, she blinks at him. Why does he have to want to discuss that of all things? She wants to put it behind her now, forget that it ever happened and never think about it again. It's not like she's going to have any more of them anyway, because she isn't. Not now that she's safe with him.

But he's watching her, waiting, looking like it's extremely important that she tell him. She shrugs, trying not to think about it too much, trying not to let it get to her. "I saw you. Here, in this room."

Her lack of clothing makes her shiver in the chill air. She wants him to envelop her body in his warm arms again, pull her tight to his chest. She doesn't want to rehash what she's already told him.

"But what was I doing?" He's brimming with excitement, practically bouncing in place, and completely oblivious to her discomfort.

"Staring at me."

"Where were you?" he asks, gesturing wildly around the room. "Where was I?"

Crossing her arms over her chest, she frowns at him. She knows this is important to him, but, really, can't he let her get some clothes on first? "I was in bed. You were..." she swallows down the twinge of fear that remembrance brings. "You were right there," she points in the general direction of where she'd seen him. "Right next to the bed, staring at me."

The Doctor claps his hands together once, making her jump. "As I was saying, that's it!" He rocks back and forth on his heels, obviously quite proud of himself, grinning like an idiot, while she stands there freezing.

She can feel goose flesh breaking out over her skin and she runs her hands up and down her arms, trying to warm them a little. "What're you on about?"

"The hallucination," he explains quickly. "Well, it wasn't exactly a hallucination." He smiles proudly at her. "It was a future echo. More like a...glimpse of something that hasn't happened yet. Or hadn't at the time. It has now, because it was me. You were actually seeing me. In the future...well, the future for past you, not present you."

Taking it all in, she's a bit surprised that she actually understood all of it, that his inane ramblings actually made sense to her this time. He could've stopped with future echo and she would've been fine, but she didn't have the heart to stop him from his animated mini lecture. She knows how much he enjoys slipping into teaching mode, and, frankly, she loves to watch him like that. 'Course, she loves to watch him do just about anything, but that's beside the point.

"So it really was you 'n not some sort of illusion?"

"Yup!" he says, popping the 'p'. Oh, he is just too full of himself.

That settled, she takes a step closer to him. He's owed a great big, heart-stopping snog and she intends to make sure he cashes in right now. But before she can, he goes all outer spacey on her again, jerking his head to the side and spouting some nonsense about artron energies and huon particles. Shoving his hand into his pocket, he fumbles around, then pulls it back out brandishing the sonic screwdriver, and waving it in her direction.

With a sigh, she holds still, letting him scan her, knowing that until he's satisfied his curiosity about whatever this new tangent is, he's not going to notice her kissing him. Bloody hell, she could probably drop the towel to the floor and stand there starkers in front of him, and he wouldn't notice.

It only takes a few seconds, and when he's done, he drops the sonic screwdriver back into his pocket, and stares at her, his eyes void of the mirth they just held. "Oh, Rose." He reaches out a hand to caress her cheek, voice low and gentle. "I...there's something...you need to--" He pauses and swallows hard, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down. "Rose, you've changed somehow. Your readings--I knew something was a bit off when I scanned you on the TARDIS, but I didn't--I don't know what it is but it's not from the alcohol or lack of sleep, like I thought. It's something else."

She's already knows what he's talking about, knows because it's one of the reasons why she didn't search him out the very second she made it back to his universe universe.

"I can figure out what it is," he rushes to assure her. "Just let me run some tests. I'll take some blood and run it through the TARDIS computer systems--"

"You don't need to," she interrupts, casting her eyes to the floor. She doesn't think she can face him when she says this, when she tells him what she should've told him months ago. She was so afraid to before, but there're too many secrets between the two of them, too many things keeping them apart, and she can't stand it any longer.

He threads his fingers in her hair again, a painful reminder of the kiss they just shared. "But I do," he insists, absently rubbing his thumb along her cheekbones and sending shivers through her. She treasures away the touch, because, this may very well be the last time he touches her like this. Or at all. "I need to find out what's wrong with you."

Raising her eyes to his, feeling a sense of bravery she doesn't really understand and a sudden desire to look him in the eyes, to gauge his reaction, she sighs and curls her fingers around his hand.

"I can't die."

He doesn't respond at first, just stares at her, fingers clenching in her hair, eyebrows furrowing. He looks frightened, no, terrified. Shaking his head vehemently, he steps away from her, mouth tight. "What do you mean, you can't die?" His voice is cold and sharp, and it scares her.

Fighting back tears, she drops his hand and turns away. His response is all the answer she needs; she doesn't doubt how he feels about her now. Maybe not telling him would've been better, because now that she has, she can't take it back, no matter how much she might want to. Disgust is all she'll see from him now, his anger all she'll hear when he speaks to her. Just like with Jack. Exactly like Jack, she thinks, angrily brushing a tear from her lashes.

Moving as quickly as she can away from him, she yanks her closet door open and pulls out a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. When she can finally manage to answer him, her words are short and clipped. "I mean I am unable to die. I can't die. I don't die. I won't die. Ever." Holding her clothes to her shivering body, she spins around to face him, eyes overflowing with hurt and the tears she's trying so desperately to hold back. "I haven't actually died, not yet. I could be wrong, but, unless I test the theory, we'll just go with 'I. can't. die'."

Fingers stiff with tension and mind numb with pain, she loses her grip, dropping her jeans to the floor. Sniffling, she bends to pick them up, and feels the towel loosening around her chest. She grabs for it quickly with her free hand, clutching the ends together, then straightens up, holding the towel and her clothing in front of her like a shield.

"But," he begins, striding across the room toward her, brow still lowered in confusion, "that's impossible. That is...that is not possible, Rose."

She snorts out a laugh, but it is in no way amused. "I think...I think you should really re-assess the meaning of that word, Doctor. Just because you don't know how something works, doesn't make it impossible." Turning with a jerk, she heads to the bathroom to change and to escape from his accusing glare.

A firm pressure on her shoulder stops her, but she doesn't turn around, can't stand to face him again. Why won't he just let her go? She wants nothing more than to be on the other side of that door, the thick wooden barrier serving as armor between him and her heart.

"Rose," her name comes out a sigh. She can feel him move closer to her, so close that his warm breath wafts over her chilled skin. So close, his suit jacket and trousers brush against her goose-bump-pebbled skin.

She tightens her grip on her clothes. "You don't have to say it. I know," she says, feeling a heavy weight settle in her stomach as she braces herself for the rejection she knows is coming. "Jack told me."

His fingers dig into her shoulder. "Jack," he bites out, spinning her around, his eyes blazing. "What, exactly, did Jack tell you?"

She doesn't answer. If he isn't going to let her get to the bathroom, fine, she'll dress right here in front of him. If he doesn't like it, he can leave. Dropping her jeans to the floor, she quickly pulls her t-shirt over her head and shoulders before the towel can fall. She immediately feels a bit warmer, though that could be the sudden awareness that the Doctor is watching her every move.

Now, he notices her nakedness?

Rolling her eyes, being careful not to look at him directly, she yanks the towel from under her shirt and holds it to her waist as she retrieves her jeans from the floor. Giving the Doctor a pointed look, she waits for him to turn away, to give her the privacy she needs, but he doesn't. His eyes remains on her, dark and unreadable, making her stomach flutter despite everything. Under his watchful gaze, she steps into the cool, crisp denim, pulling them up as far as she can with the barrier wrapped around her waist. She tosses the towel aside, not caring anymore if he catches a glimpse of anything. He's already seen her completely naked, after all, and this is really just a hint of flesh.

When she finally braves another look at him she finds he's still watching her, but his eyes aren't on her face anymore.

She swallows thickly past the lump in her throat, feeling more naked under his gaze now than when she'd been completely starkers. Grabbing the ends of her t-shirt, she yanks it down, but that only serves to make her nipples all the more obvious in the chilly room.

When his eyes dart back up to her face, she shifts uncomfortably under his heated stare. Then he clears his throat, sticking his hands in his pocket. Back to Doctor default mode, it seems. "Jack?" he encourages softly.

Why can't he just let it go all ready? It's not like anything she says is going to make one bit of difference to him at this point. "He told me what you said about him," she answers, knowing that if she doesn't, he'll just keep pressing the matter until she does. "That he's wrong and you can't stand to be around him." She runs a hand through her tangled hair. It's drying too fast, and without a good brushing, will turn into a rat's nest.

Sidestepping the Doctor, she moves to her makeup table and picks up her brush. Working it through her hair, she watches him warily in the mirror.

"Yeah," he agrees, eyes on her reflection. He shrugs his shoulders. "What does that have to do with you, and--oh" His expression clears when the realization of what she's trying to say hits him. "Oh, no, no, no, Rose. You're not like Jack. Not at all like Jack. He's a fixed point in time, I can..." he pauses, rubbing the back of his head, and she can tell he's searching for the right words. "I feel him as a--there's a wrongness to him because he--" cutting off his own words, he strides over to her, taking the brush from her hand and setting it back on her vanity. "Rose, would I have been touching you all this time--kissing you--if I felt you were wrong?"

Her eyes widen as he takes her slack hand, places a gentle kiss to her palm. "I don't..." she falters, feeling her heart soar with hope, oh, so much hope. Is it possible that he isn't rejecting her after all? "I don't know."

He leans close to her, eyes dark and heated with something she's never seen before. Never thought she'd see. "You are not wrong to me, Rose Tyler." He presses his lips against her forehead, then her cheek. "And even if you were?" He pulls back, catching her gaze with his. "It wouldn't matter to me. I'd still want you." His eyes, so open and full of honesty, force her to accept the truth of his words, then drop to her lips. "And I do want you, Rose." He sucks in a deep, shuddering breath and trails a hand down her arm, taking her by the elbow to draw her closer. Leaning his forehead against hers, he exhales shakily and whispers, "Do you want me?"

She shudders at the husky tone to his words, the obvious meaning behind them. She can feel his forehead against hers, his warm breath on her cool cheeks, his hand on her chilled flesh. She can see the truth in his eyes and her heart begins to thump in double-time at the need on his face. "Yes," she whispers back.

He smiles breathlessly, there for only a moment before it's gone again, hidden in the depths of his intense gaze, now focused on her lips. "That's good. That's very, very good."

She could stay here like this forever, safe in the knowledge that, for now, he still wants her. Wants her more than she could've ever imagined. But her mum is downstairs, her family and mates, and if she doesn't make an appearance soon, they're gonna come looking for her. Besides, the sooner she ties up the loose ends here, the sooner they can get back to their proper universe. Together.

As if sensing her thoughts, the Doctor pulls back, eyes still dark as night, a look of reluctance on his face. "Suppose we should," he nods towards the bedroom door. "Not that I don't want to stay here, but...can't exactly have you all to myself with your mum near, can I?" There's a twinkle in his eye and a gruffness to his voice that leaves her mind reeling with the possibilities.

"Right," she squeaks, then clears her throat. "Say our goodbyes. Then?"

"Well, I had hoped, Rose Tyler," he holds out his elbow for her, "that we might do some traveling, me and you. Of we go?" He wiggles his eyebrows.

"Into time..." she smiles up at him, hooking her arm in his.

"And space." He walks with her to the door, with a bounce in his step. "Oh, the places I want to take you, Rose. Srevania and the seven moons of Bak-Vlah."

Resting her head against his shoulder, Rose lets his infectious excitement wash over her. She can't wait. Srevania? Bak-Vlah? A mud planet with deadly snakes the size of large trees? Anywhere he wants to go, she'll follow.

"And--oh, oh, definitely have to take you to La'San!"

A feeling of dread shreds through her happiness and she falters, nearly tripping over her own feet.

"Did you know they put five bananas in their banana cream pies? Five bananas, Rose!" The Doctor turns to her, grinning broadly, waiting for her acknowledgment of how wonderful that is.

She nods, leaning heavily against his side, trying to keep herself upright. Her head is spinning, her smile slowly fading from her lips, and she's pretty sure she's about to be ill.


End file.
